


Always, Forever

by Itrustyoutokillme



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff, drug references, friendships, long fic, sexy sex sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-11-12 02:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 62
Words: 299,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11152068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itrustyoutokillme/pseuds/Itrustyoutokillme
Summary: After season 2 ends, Lincoln is exonerated but Michael must serve a 14 months prison sentence for escaping.  Because of his crime, Michael must serve his sentence in maximum security isolation and will not see Sara until he is released.A Tale of Two Scofields!  Michael and Sara set up home together and live out their lives. A tale full of all of the ups and downs of being married, having children and all of the other goodness (and bad) that comes with it!  Set after season 2.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A ten year old co-write Jess has given me permission to share with everyone! Previously unpublished, we wrote this for ourselves over the course of a summer after the end of season 2, and i couldn't not share it with you guys! Really hope you enjoy it! Side note: some of these chapters are very prophetic for later seasons - we had no idea!
> 
> Jess plays Sara/Lincoln and original characters when they are talking to Michael (Me). Roles reversed for Michael/original/Lincoln when they were talking to Sara (Jess).
> 
> Sadly, Jess no longer writes fanfiction, so this is it guys. I am confident they are in the correct order, but no more are coming. I might write an epilogue set in the far future, but we'll see :)

The damn door was knocking. "What the...?" Lincoln growled. He had been in the shower less than five minutes and already he was being disturbed. It wasn't LJ because he had a girlfriend now, which meant he shouldn't be home anywhere between dawn one day and dawn the next. Lincoln was a bachelor again. He threw the shower door open, ready to pummel whoever was bashing at his door so eagerly at ten at night and wrapped a fluffy white towel around his waist. He stalked from the bathroom, his blood boiling under his skin and making all the tiny droplets over his finely toned body evaporate into the air as steam. "Yeah...hold on!" he called out annoyed, as he purposely walked slowly to the door. Maybe, if he didn't get there in time, they would go away.

"Heeeey!" Sara exclaimed when the door flew open. She had been knocking forever, it was about time Lincoln opened the door. She stumbled forward a bit, running a finger down his bare wet chest to where his towel started. "Wow! It's like you were expecting me!"

"Sara?" Lincoln asked confused, catching her when she stumbled into him. "Expecting you...what?" he asked confused. Her hair was flat and fluffy, a few strand sticking out here and there. Her eyes were heavy lidded and she couldn't keep herself upright without his help. Lincoln grabbed her wrist and pulled it from his skin. "Sara, are you...drunk?" he surprised himself with his words, pulling her into his apartment and closing the door behind her.

"I'm not. . . drunk!" Sara giggled at his words. She swayed a little and wrapped an arm around Lincoln's waist to steady herself. "I'm just tipsy!" She giggled again. "You look good, Linc. Do you know that? You look good."

"Uh...okay..." he said slowly, unclasping her hands from behind his back and removing them from his skin again. "Where have you been?" he asked her, taking a step from her body to minimalise contact. "You shouldn't drink," he scolded her lightly.

"You shouldn't drink," Sara repeated in a masculine voice and then giggled. Stumbling out of her high heels, she broke into a sing-song voice. "I went to some baaaars! You wouldn't believe how nice guys are, Linc. They just kept buying me drink after drink after drink after drink. . ."

Lincoln scratched his head gently, unable to process what was going on in front of him. "Sara, why did you go to bars?" he asked her nicely, in a childlike tone.

"Because I wanted to feeel good!" Sara informed him happily, turning so that her body was pressed against his. She slid her fingers down to his towel again and lowered her voice. "Don't you ever want to feel good?"

Lincoln bit back his burning sensation in his stomach and stepped from her again, further into his lounge. "Sara..." he said, clutching at his towel in a desperate attempt to keep it on his body. "Uh..." he tried to think of something to say. "...Oh!" he exclaimed suddenly, turning their conversation into a game. "Did you go and see Michael today?"

"I did!" Sara exclaimed, taking Lincoln by the shoulders and pushing him down onto the couch. She straddled his lap. "I definitely saw Michael today!"

"Sara, Stop!" Lincoln screamed at her, grabbing her wrists and stopping her from trailing her hands all over his body. He gripped at her smooth flesh tightly, the skin under his fingers turning pink. If he weren’t careful, she'd notice his arousal. "Why are you here?" he asked her seriously.

"Michael doesn't want me," Sara shrugged, trying to move into Lincoln again. "And I mean, you are his brother." She eyed him up and down and squinted her eyes. "Maybe if I pretend hard enough. . ."

“What? Pretend hard enough…Sara, you don’t want this,” Lincoln told her firmly. He moved to grip both her hands in one of his massive paws and tightened his hold on his towel. “Wait…” he stilled, frowning with confusion. “…Michael doesn’t want you?”

Sara yanked her hands from Lincoln's grasp and stumbled around a bit before grabbing onto an armchair. It took her a second to steady herself. "He doesn't want me. Who can blame him though? Neither do you."

"Sara..." Lincoln said her name softly, his head tilting sideways with empathy.

Sara tilted her head when Lincoln said her name. She didn't hear him though, she heard Michael, saying her name the way he had said it over and over. The way only Michael could say it. Turning back to him, Sara leaned in for a kiss.

"Whoa..." Lincoln whispered, reaching to push Sara's shoulders and hold her from him. Their lips were almost touching and Lincoln cursed the blood surging through his body to all the wrong places. "...Sara, I'm not Michael," he said softly, turning his head from her so the temptation was gone.

"No, you're not Michael," Sara whispered, leaning away from him. She hit against the wall and cursed under her breath. "No one wants Sara. Sara was just there to leave the door open. Sara was the key, Sara always has the key. Now it's done, it's over. No one needs Sara anymore."

"Okay," Lincoln announced, lifting her from his lap onto the couch cushions next to him. He stood up and run his hands over his face, exhaling hard. "That's the alcohol talking," he told her. "No one is more grateful for what you did than us, Sara. Believe me."

"Michael isn't grateful," Sara muttered, feeling dangerously close to tears. "Michael doesn't want me. Michael doesn't need me." She stood, stumbling down the hall. "I think I need to puke."

"Oh, okay, not in the hall..." Lincoln hurried after her, gripping her elbow and guiding her to the bathroom.

Sara barely made it to the bathroom, before she leaned over the sink, emptying the contents of her stomach. With each heave, came a sobering, racking sob. By the time she was done, she was near wailing and completely embarrassed.

Like any good friend, Lincoln consoled her, gently rubbing her back while she gagged and spluttered the burning alcohol into his sink. He held her hair from her face and noticed her tears as she gripped at the sink with a shaky hand. When she was finished, he helped her stand but her weakened body crumbled to the floor in a fit of sobs. Lincoln knelt down in front of her and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. "This isn't how you deal with things, Sara," he told her, his own sponsor's words ringing in his ears.

Sara sobbed into her knees, so upset that she almost didn't care Lincoln was seeing her in such a state. "At least I'm not using."

Lincoln nodded in agreement and slid to sit beside her on the bathroom floor. “That’s good,” he said honestly. “Coming onto me? Not so much of a smart idea…” he shuffled on the floor so that his fading erection couldn’t be noticed beneath his towel. “You want to tell me what Michael said?” he pried gently.

"He said. . ." Sara drew in a deep breath as another sob, racked her body. Even though her tears had dwindled, she couldn't seem to control herself. She glanced Lincoln up and down and noticed he was still in nothing but just a towel. "Could you put some clothes on?"

"Sara..." Lincoln warned. "...Just don't look at me. Tell me what Michael said," he urged gently.

Sara closed her eyes and leaned her head back, banging it against the wall twice before finally stilling. "He said that he didn't think I should come anymore. To visit him." She felt the tightening in her chest again. "He said he doesn't want me to."

"To visit him, or..." Lincoln paused, choosing his words carefully. "...or be with him?" he whispered quietly. He wanted to reach out and comfort her but she was technically still drunk and still in desperate need of some comfort of a different kind. Michael had been in prison for almost 5 months. That was a long time for anyone to go without any. Lincoln took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

"To visit him or. . . or. . ." Another sob racked through Sara's body as a fresh batch of tears found their way to her eyes. "Or to be with him." She sniffled and thought she might need to be sick again.

"Sara, you're not making sense," Lincoln soothed gently. He figured she didn't even know what she was talking about herself. "You need to stop crying," he told her.

"I'm not making sense? I'm not making sense?" Sara's voice rose. She flailed about for a moment, trying to find something to help her pull herself up. She finally caught hold of the towel rack and lugged herself up, staring intently at Lincoln. "I have done everything for him. Everything he has ever asked." She wobbled for a minute but didn't sink back down to the floor. "I love him. He knows I love him. But he doesn't want me to come back. So I said I wouldn't."

"You what?" Lincoln asked her dumbfounded. "Are you insane?" he crowed, standing to join her in her now wobbly upright position.

"Fuck him," Sara announced loudly. She knocked her hand against the sink, repeating it like a mantra. "Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him. Fuck it all. I'm done."

Lincoln moved to grab her hand again, and she softened at his touch. "Hey..." he soothed, noticing the sudden bruising on her hand. "...look what you did," he sighed, turning on the cold water and holding her hand under it. "He's not thinking straight, Sara. He's been in prison...he’s been apart from you for too long. His mind is playing tricks on him.”

"What about me?" Sara whispered, shaking her head. She didn't even notice Lincoln running the cold water over her hand. "What about me, out here, without him? It's not like I have someone to go home to every night, Linc. I'm here, waiting for him. And if he doesn't want me to, I won't. I will. . . move on."

Lincoln chuckled and turned off the tap. "No you won't," he said slowly, wrapping her hand in a smaller version of the towel that was draped around his waist. He pulled on her arm gently and led her from the bedroom, leading her into his bedroom and pulling back the covers. "I'll talk to him," he promised, tossing the damp towel across the room. "You. Sleep," he told her softly, pushing her down onto the pillows and pulling the comforter up to her neck. He pulled open his bedside drawer, pulled out a box of painkillers and planted the yellow box next to his alarm clock. "You'll need these," he offered her a weak smile.

"Linc," Sara muttered, grabbing onto his wrist. She buried her tear-stained face in the pillow and sniffled. "You're my best friend."

"No, I’m not," Lincoln said firmly, giving her a wink as he left his room and pulled the door shut behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Lincoln opened the door a little for the third time that day, coffee in hand. The last two had been left on the side of the bedside table and gone cold, so he has hastily removed them on his next visit and then left her for another two hours. It was the afternoon, three hours into it to be exact, and Sara had yet to emerge from his bed. He padded over to the bed, setting the steaming mug of coffee down beside her and then squatting next to the bed. “Sara?” he called softly, brushing her hair from her brow so he could see her face. “Sara, are you okay?”

Sara moved away from Lincoln's touch and stuck her head under the pillow. She pressed her face into the sheets and shook her head. "I just want to sleep, okay?"

“You slept all night,” he objected softly. “And all morning. Ad now, it is three in the afternoon.” He looks at the clock beside his bed and the unopened box of painkillers he left there the night before. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

"I want to sleep all afternoon too," Sara murmured, rolling over. "Of course I remember, I'm a sober drunk. I tried to sleep with you because you're brother is the most arrogant asshole I've ever met. Now, can I sleep some more please?"

Lincoln’s lips turned up into a small smile and he fell onto his knees beside the bed. “Michael is that,” he agreed with a nod. “But you can’t sleep all afternoon. You’re in my bed and I want to change my sheets,” he said, almost a whisper in case her head hurt. “I have a spare room. If you wanted to go and dwell in the darkness there.”

"I'll change your sheets later," Sara moved away from him, shutting her eyes again. "Promise. Just go away. I won't make much noise when I die."

“Sara…” Lincoln pushed himself to his feet and walked around the edge of his bed, rocking her body a little as he joined her on the bed. He lay on his side, resting his face in his upturned palm and waited for her to open her eyes and look at him. “…Sara, how long are you going to pretend you can live without him?”

"It doesn't matter," Sara finally opened her eyes and glanced over at him. "He can live without me, and he wants to."

“No he doesn’t,” Lincoln whispered trying to shake his head against his pillow. “He says it but he doesn’t mean it.”

Sara locked her jaw and crossed her arms across her chest, trying to ignore the dull ache in her head. "He looked like he meant it."

Lincoln looked at her with a small smile again. “You know how well he can act, Sara. Look what he can make people do for him,” he said slowly. He was talking about her and the infirmary door. “Don’t give up on him, okay?”

"I know what Michael can make people do for him. I know better than anyone!" Sara raised her voice a little, then pressed her hand to her head. "That's just it. He got what he needed from me, and now that I need him. . . he doesn't care."

“As much as it feels like he doesn’t, Michael loves you Sara,” Lincoln whispered, searching her face with his eyes. “I know he does. And I know him better then anyone.” He paused. “He needs you so much but he won’t let himself show it. How do you think he would feel if he let you go see him in prison? The guilt would eat him up, Sara.”

"And he doesn't feel guilty just leaving me alone?" Sara snapped, sitting up and groaning. She continued yelling anyway. "He doesn't feel guilty that I won't get to see him and know how he's doing? Does he not even think about how it will affect me?"

“He thinks about it every single second,” Lincoln admitted sadly. “Michael is…” he paused, letting out a grunt as he rolled onto his back and rested his hands under his head. “…He’s Michael. And until you have lived with him, you will not understand that.”

"Well, I guess I'm never going to get the chance to live with him now, am I?" Sara snapped, standing up and stumbling a bit.

Lincoln pushed himself off the bed and rushed to her side, supporting her with a massive arm around her waist. “I’ll talk to him. I promise,” Lincoln said softly, leading her from the room. He walked them down the hall, pushing open the door to the spare room with a painful creaking sound and then led her to the bed. “Sara, I am worried about you,” he said quickly, setting her down on the bed. “If Michael can make you almost commit suicide and then revert back to drinking, I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

Sara looked up at him, her eyebrow arched. "I didn't almost commit suicide, ever!"

“Oh, really?” he arches his brow back at her and crosses his arms, looking down at her. “We heard about you being in hospital, Sara. We heard what had happened. What was that if it wasn’t a desperate cry for Michael, huh?” He bore into her eyes, begging for an answer. “A morphine accident?”

"You think I did it because of Michael?" Sara snapped, standing back up and clearing her throat. "You think I did it because I thought he'd hear about it and run back to save me? You have no idea why I did it."

“So tell me!” Lincoln yelled desperately, standing up with her and inching closer. He towered over her body and she looked away from him when he stared at her. “What was it? What else, at that exact moment in your life, would make you want to end it all?”

"I didn't want to end it all, Lincoln. That's so dramatic," Sara spat out. "I just wanted to forget, okay? I wanted to forget that the reason I did it wasn't for you or how innocent I thought you were. It was because of him and those stupid eyes and that stupid voice and that goddamn sincerity that wormed its way past every single lie. I did it because I couldn't hate him, so I had to hate me."

Lincoln let out a laugh and turned away from her. “And you still can’t hate him now, can you?”

"I do, I hate him with all of me," Sara snapped, moving out of the room. Where had she put her car keys? "Hate. Hate. Hate. I don't even care what happens to him in that place."

Lincoln followed after her, his fingers pressed to his lips. He had hit a nerve and as much as she tried to tell him otherwise, he knew she didn’t hate him. “Sara…” he called softly, reaching her at the front door. He pressed a massive hand to the back of the door, holding it closed as she tried to open it weakly.

Sara finally tried to stop yanking the door open and finally stepped away, crossing her arms. "What the hell is your problem?"

“You don’t hate him,” Lincoln said defiantly, shaking his head with a smirk.

"Stop smiling at me!" Sara snapped, trying to push passed Lincoln. "Stop. Just. . . let me get out of here, Lincoln."

Lincoln stood fast. “You don’t hate him and you care more then you know what happens to him in that place,” he said roughly, leaning his face forward towards hers. “You can’t run from it because it will just eat away at you until you see him again. You know what happens in prison, Sara, better than anyone.”

"Of course I know, Lincoln. You don't think I worry about it, about him all the time? It's all I think about. What they'll do to him. . ." She glanced down, pressing her hand over her eyes and trying to hide her tears. "And none of us are there to protect him."

Lincoln sighed, moved closer to her and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her closer to him. “Michael knows how to look after himself,” he whispered into her ear, smoothing his hands up and down her back. “And all he wants to do is protect you from seeing him break down,” Lincoln pinched his eyes closed at the one thing he had promised Michael he would never tell her. Michael was losing it and he didn’t want Sara to see. “He doesn’t have long. Let him cope with it how he knows how to.”

"It doesn't mean it makes it right," Sara muttered against Lincoln's chest, shaking her head. "He's the most important thing in the world to me, Linc."

“Sara…” Lincoln sighed, pulling her from his chest and tilting her face up to look at his with a crooked finger under her chin. He gave her a quick smile and looked down. “…There is nothing in this world more important to Michael than you. I know it hurts to be away from him and I know what its like to be pushed away by him too, but he needs time by himself.”

"You know what it's like? He needs time by himself?" Sara stepped away from Lincoln. "You agree with Michael?!"

“No!” Lincoln objected weakly. “Yes…well, no…” He sighed, rubbing his hand over his head. “I don’t fucking know,” he growled. “I know Michael. I know him better then anyone and I know what he needs. Sara, if he sees you, he’ll be so broken when he gets out of prison he won’t be Michael anymore. Is that what you want? Because I sure as hell want my brother back.”

"Fine. Get your brother back," Sara snapped, locating her purse and keys and opening the closet to get her shoes out. "You and your brother can live happily ever after."

Lincoln stopped her again, reaching and snatching her keys from her hands and holding them behind his back. “Okay, fine. Come with me to see him. Whatever.”

"Give me my keys, Lincoln," Sara snapped, holding out her hands. "I'm not a child. You can't keep me here."

“Where will you go?” Lincoln asked, softening his voice as he handed back her keys. “I mean it, Sara. If I find out you’ve done anything stupid…”

"I'm going home," Sara snapped, jingling her keys at him. "And what, Linc? If I kill myself you'll kill me again?"

Lincoln sighed sadly. He liked Sara and he hated what his brother was doing to her. “Please…” he begged, taking a step towards her and closing his eyes as he spoke. “…Don’t even joke about it.”

Sara shook her head, walking towards the front door. "Maybe I'm not joking, Linc." Without waiting for his response, she slammed the front door behind her.

Lincoln grabbed his keys and tugged his jacket on at the same time as stumbling over putting his sneakers on. He bumped his knee on his doorframe as he left his house, stumbling down the steps awkwardly and searching the street. Sara’s car had long gone so he got into his own, slamming the door of the classic carefully, and headed over to her apartment to cut her off.

Sara pulled into her parking garage, not even bothering to lock her car. She took the elevator up to her apartment, went inside and locked it behind her. She scrambled around in her dresser for a moment, before finally coming across what she wanted. Taking the little vial into the living room, she sank down onto the couch.

Lincoln had only just stopped the engine when he jumped from his car and bounded up the stairs towards Sara’s apartment. He had no time to take the elevator that was at the top already anyway. He had seen that look before, but not on Sara’s face. It was on his own face and he had only wanted to do one thing to make the pain stop that day. If Michael hadn’t have come home from school, eager to tell his big brother all about his day and how he had aced his math test, Lincoln would have ended it all. “Sara!” he called, finally reaching her door and banging on it relentlessly. “Sara, open up!”

"Go away." Sara didn't even bother to raise her voice and she just stared at the door. "Just go away."

Lincoln leant against the door, his eyes closed and his knuckles resting next to his face against the wood. “Sara, please…I know what’s happening. You have to open the door.”

Sara moved up from the couch, walking towards the bathroom. She opened the cabinet beneath her sink and fumbled around for a moment until she found the needle. "You need to go away, Linc!"

“You need to open the door!” Lincoln yelled against the wood. He shot a glance down the hall to make sure no neighbours were about to shout at him for disturbing the peace. “Come on, Sara. You don’t want to do this.”

Sara walked passed the door on her way back to the living room, slamming her hand against the wood. "Go home, Linc!"

Lincoln shook his head, eve though she couldn’t see him. “Sara, if you don’t open this door…”

Sara settled back down on the couch, studying the bottle and needle in front of her. She cleared her throat, sticking the needle into the small vial and letting the liquid seep into the needle.

Lincoln pressed his ear to the door, straining to listen to any sound that came from inside. He heard Sara clear her throat and it was only a tiny cough, barely audible through the thick wood of the door. “Sara?” he asked softly, his deep voice vibrating through the wood. He looked at the door and felt numb. Silence. He took a few steps back, grabbing the door frame with both hands and them smacked his boot into the wood with a grunt, freezing on the spot when the door flew open and he saw Sara. “Sara, stop. Right now,” he begged desperately, slamming the door behind him as he ran to her side and tried to grapple the needle from her.

Sara yanked away from him and stepped back, pressing the tip of the needle to the crook of her arm. "Stay away, Linc. You stay away or I swear. .. "

“Okay, okay…” he said quickly, stepping back and his blood pumping around his body so fast it pounded in his ears. “Sara, please…don’t,” he begged her softly, holding out his hand. “Michael’s not worth this,” he whispered shaking his head sadly.

Sara stared at Linc for a long moment, the tip of the needle barely pressing into her skin. Taking a deep, ragged breath, she let the needle fall to the ground and leaned back against the wall, slipping down to the floor.

Lincoln’s body visibly relaxed and he held his shaky hand over his mouth, closing his eyes and feeling dizzy. He leant back against the wall, sighing into the room and swallowing with relief.

Sara let out a sob and leaned forward, pressing her head into her knees. Her body racked and she shook her head. "Yes. . . he is."

Lincoln wasn’t sure if it was possible, but he felt a tiny part of his heart break away when Sara began to cry. He had come to save her but now he didn’t know what to say. She was so in love with his brother she was willing to sacrifice everything when he had rejected her. Lincoln closed his hands over his scalp, resting his elbows on his knees when he finished sliding down the wall and sat on the floor next to her. “I’ll talk to him.”

Sara sobbed into her arms. "It's not going to do any good, Linc. He just. . . he's so closed off. I've never seen him this way before. He's just so bitter."

Lincoln scooted sideways and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him and tucking her head under his chin. He smoothed his hand down her arm, gently turning it over and inspecting the tiny pin prick in her elbow. He sighed softly, smoothing his thumb over the area. “I’ll make him listen,” he promised sincerely. “He will listen.”

"Don't tell him," Sara shook her head against his shirt. She let out another sob and wrapped an arm around Lincoln, holding on to him. "Please. . . please don't tell him."

Lincoln nodded softly, hugging her tighter to him. “Okay. I won’t tell him.”

Sara let out another sob and pulled away from him, wiping at her eyes. "I'm sorry. I am. . ."

“Hey…” Lincoln frowned, catching her attention and offering her a smile. “…Don’t be sorry. I’ve been there, Sara. I know how you are feeling right now and it sucks, I know…” he looked away from her, wrapping his hands around his knees and hugging them to his chest. “…But it gets better. It will get better when he is out.”

"I don't want to wait until he's out," Sara murmured, shaking her head. "I want him now, anyway I can get him. Even if it's through a glass barrier."

“Sara. He might…we might lose him mentally if he sees you again. We don’t want that, do we?” Lincoln asked softly, resting his forehead against his arms and speaking down at the floor.

"Why can he see you and not me?" Sara raised her voice again. "I don't get it, Lincoln! I just can't understand it!"

Lincoln let out a breath and lifted his head, resting it to the wall behind him. “With Michael, he is very sensitive to change,” Lincoln began softly, ignoring the fact she was fuming beside him. “If he sees you one day, and not the next, or he is forced to not see you for months…Do you know what they does to someone with LLI?” he looked over to her with a pained expression. “It’s like his entire world would crash around him and he would do anything within his power to make the pain stop…” he trailed off, looking back down at his lap. “He is rejecting you to make sure he comes back to you, Sara. He wants you.”

"Lincoln, he can see me every day," Sara whispered, dropping down to her knees in front of him. "He can see me anytime he wants."

“Not in prison,” Lincoln shook his head. “Sara, they have him locked up for twenty three hours a day. They chain him to the floor when he does get a visitor and the guards watch him so closely I’m surprised he is allowed the hour of freedom he actually gets.” Lincoln looked over to her and sighed again. “He cannot see you anytime he wants, and that kills him.”

Sara leaned back against the couch, fluttering her eyes shut. "He told me we weren't going to work. Not even when he was out."

Lincoln smiled at his brother’s persistence. “Cruel to be kind,” he muttered. “Would you have agreed not to go back if he hadn’t of said those things?”

"And what if I do move on, Lincoln?" Sara snapped, crossing her arms. "What if I find someone else?"

“Will you?” Lincoln interjected her rant softly. “Because I don’t think you will,” he shook his head, waggling a finger at her. “And Michael is an arrogant bastard. He knows it too.”

Sara's mouth quirked at the side before she regained her serious expression. "Maybe I'll move on just to piss him off."

“And who are you going to ‘move on’ with in the months he has left?” Lincoln smiled. “Especially since it won't be easy to get laid living at my place.”

Sara looked over to him, wiping away a runaway tear. "Huh?"

Lincoln shifted on the floor, stretching out his legs and crossing his feet over at the ankles. “Move in with me. Just until Michael gets out,” he asked softly, his voice full of concern. “I’ll only worry about you otherwise.”

Sara bit her bottom lip. "Lincoln. Michael would flip out."

Lincoln frowned at her and tilted his head to the side. “And why would we tell him? It’s not like we’d be sleeping together every night,” he teased. “I’m serious, Sara. For a second, fuck Michael and think of yourself. There are more important things than Michael and you are one of them.”

Sara looked down at the floor, running her finger over a line in the wood. "I am not."

“Oh my god,” Lincoln rolled his eyes. “I don’t know which of you has the lowest self worth!” he joked with a weak chuckle. “Come on. Just until Michael gets out,” he looked around her apartment, finally focusing on the spilled vial of morphine and the unused needle on the floor. “We can hang out. Eat pizza. Watch porn,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

Sara rolled her eyes, glancing up at him. "No porn. And you have to start cleaning up better. And I get the nice bed!"

Lincoln snorted through his nose and arched his eyebrow at her. “The spare bed is the nice bed.”

Sara rolled her eyes. "Only 'cause no one's ever had sex in it."

“This is true,” Lincoln grinned modestly. “You can have my bed if you want it…I’m not moving out though.”

Sara rolled her eyes and glanced to the side. "Are you just doing this because you don't want me to kill myself?"

“Nobody wants that, Sara,” Lincoln said softly, studying her profile. “I am doing this because I care about you and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Sara pursed her lips. "And are you going to tell Michael how upset I am?"

“Yes,” Lincoln said simply. “And I am going to tell him how much of a bastard he is being to you.”

Sara sighed. "And you really think that'll help things, Linc?"

Lincoln shrugged. “He can’t run away from me. Chained to the floor remember,” he smirked. “If I have to yell at him until the day he is released, I will.”

"Lincoln. . ." Sara sniffled. "All that's going to do is make him feel worse."

“We’ll see,” he smiled softly. “If it does, he’s got nothing to lose because he would have already rejected you, right?”

Sara looked to the ground. "You know how I feel about him. How I always will."

Lincoln nodded slowly and moved to push himself to his feet. “Yes. Yes I do. So go, pack your things and move in with me. I’ll teach you all about Michael so when he does get out and realises he can’t live without you, you’ll be prepared,” he smiled down at her, offering her his hand.

Sara stood and brushed off her bottom, glancing to the morphine vial. "Take care of that for me?"

With a silent nod, Lincoln smiled at her and pulled her into another hug. He held her to him; relieved he had stopped her from not only ruining her life but also that of his brother’s. He would look after her as if his life depended on it but he would give her pace and time to be who she was and not watch her like a rehab hawk.

Sara wrapped her arm around Lincoln's waist, hugging him to her. "I love you, Linc."

Unable to resist, Lincoln smirked. “Like a brother or…” he teased. “…I’m kidding,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “I know.”

Sara tickled at his side, pulling away. "Oh, Linc, you know I've always had a thing for you!"

Lincoln almost blushed as he pushed her towards her bedroom. “Go you,” he smiled, shooting a glance at the needle lying on the floor. “Stop teasing me, woman.”

Sara winked at Lincoln and moved back to her bedroom, quickly beginning to pack her necessities.

Lincoln crouched down and plucked the needled from the floor, leaning across to pick of the fallen vial and heading to the kitchen with both of them. He sent the morphine in the syringe down the sink first, squeezing it from the plastic with the plunger. Then he tore at the top of the vial, rinsing it under the water to dilute it down the sink.

Sara walked back out to the kitchen and sighed. "I haven't thought about using in . . . in a long time."

Lincoln looked over his shoulder at her with a small smile. He was, in a way, proud of her. “That’s good,” he said softly but then he sounded like a sponsor. “I’m not going to judge you for this, by the way,” he added, looking back to the needle in his hands. “That’s not my place.”

Sara placed her hands on the counter and took a deep breath. "It wasn't enough to kill me, Lincoln."

“This time,” Lincoln said darkly. “What if you wanted more? I’ve been there, Sara, remember? I know how it feels.”

Sara bit her bottom lip and shook her head just slightly. "That's what makes us addicts, Lincoln."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lincoln visits Michael in prison to try and persuade him to speak to Sara.

Lincoln took his seat, watching Michael through the Plexiglas. He would have thought someone who was being paroled in less than two weeks would look happy. But not Michael, of course not Michael. He had circles under his eyes and looked pissed at the world. Lincoln sat forward, "You gonna let her come?"

Michael snapped his gaze up and glared at Lincoln. "Do I have a choice?" he sighed, rubbing his hands down the legs of his orange jumpsuit. Ever since he was put back in prison, he had been treated as if he was more dangerous than Ted Bundy. That meant, isolation for twenty three hours a day, no conjugal of any kind, visitors at the discretion of the warden only and the fabled orange jump suit. "You'll bring her," he told Lincoln firmly. "I know you will."

Lincoln fixed him with a hard gaze, ready to inform Michael that he was fucking right he'd bring Sara. "No," Lincoln shook her head. "I'm not bringing her here to let you treat her like shit." He sat back and folded his arms. "You know you want her here."

Michael looked away. He wanted her here, more than anything in the world. "She doesn't deserve this," Michael spat, angrier with himself than anything. "She doesn't deserve me."

"You know, you're right," Lincoln sat forward. "She deserves so much more than everything you've done to her. She deserves more than the way you've treated her. But you're what she wants."

"Hey," Michael gritted his teeth and lurched forward in his chair. He was stopped by the cuffs looped through his chair and chained to his ankles. "Everything I’ve done to her...was for you," he spat, his breath condensing against the glass.

"So this is my fault?" Lincoln gave him an amused look. "Shut up and sit down, Michael." He leaned forward, "Do you know what I'd give to have someone who feels about me the way Sara feels about you? And what do you do, Michael? You take it for granted." He kept his voice low, but pointed to Michael, tapping on the glass for emphasis. "You ruined her life once, and then when finally she's back on track, what do you do? You push her away. You hurt her. You break her heart. You ruin her all over again." Lincoln shook his head. "You don't deserve how much she loves you."

Michael eyed him suspiciously for a second. "All over again?" he said softly. "What's happened? Is she okay?" he asked, trying not to let his judgment get clouded by his overwhelming need to know how Sara was.

"You think you deserve to know?" Lincoln spat out. "No, Michael. She's a mess. She's surviving, but she can't get over you. She's in love with you, man." Lincoln shook her head. "Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Linc..." Michael paused, taking a deep, frustrated breath. How many time were they going to have this conversation and how many times was Lincoln going to leave Michael feeling worse than he already did. "...it means the world to me..." he breathed. "And that's why I can't do this to her anymore!" he bellowed. The prison guard glared at him from across the room, tapping his thumb to his nightstick. Michael licked his lips and calmed himself. "Why are you so bothered anyway, Linc? It's not like you two...wait a minute...how do you know all this?"

"We hang out sometimes," Linc shrugged. "She needs a friend, Michael. And she comes to me because I'm your brother. I'm her only link left to you. . . you're getting out of here, buddy." Linc motioned around him. "You're getting out. Why don't you want her?"

"It's not that I don't want her," Michael whispered. My god, it wasn't that. He couldn't think of anything he would want more than to be wrapped up in Sara's arms all over again. "I just...I don't know how to love her like she wants."

Lincoln tilted his head, letting out a low whistle. "Michael, I'm pretty sure you're capable of lovin' on a woman. After all, I raised you."

Michael snorted out a nervous laugh. "I don't mean like that," he grinned, rolling his eyes.

"Michael. . ." Lincoln shook his head. "I don't think she needs you to love her any certain way. I think all she needs is for you to love her."

Michael shifted in his chair and his chains rattled around on the metal chair he was sitting in. He dreamt of loving Sara, every single night. He couldn't escape the sweet reverie of her soft moans and her smooth skin against his. He looked up at Lincoln. "I'm scared," he said simply, hesitation to admit his fear evident on his voice.

Lincoln hesitated before responding. "Good. That's how you know it's real." He watched Michael carefully, then glanced at his watch. "She's here." He motioned to the door where he had entered the room. "On the other side of that door."

Michael's eyes went wide with fright and he swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat. "You're lying," he said to Lincoln darkly. "I don't want to see her. She shouldn't see me like this, not after everything," he spat, his mood instantly changing again.

"I'm not lying," Lincoln told him calmly. "She's right there and she wants to see you. Like this. However she can get you." He crossed his arms. "Five minutes, Mike."

“No…no…” Mike shook his head and tried to stand, pushing his chair backwards against the wall. “Not like this!” he growled, slamming himself into the wall and lifting both his cuffed hands to hide his face from Lincoln. Isolation had taken his toll on him and he couldn’t process the prospect of seeing Sara again.

"Michael. Calm the fuck down," Lincoln told him, leaning closer and lowering his voice. "You owe it to her. You owe her five minutes. And if you want to be done with her, you tell her. You tell her the truth, so if you really want her out of your life, she has a chance to move on."

Michael heaved a sigh, his breathing ragged against the wall he rested his head against. He turned around in his booth, shaking his head with every thought that passed through his head. "Linc...?" Michael's voice was low as he turned around, catching the eye of the guard as he walked towards the front of the booth.

"Michael. . ." Lincoln felt a pang of guilt. It was the same every time he was here. He placed his hand on the glass. "I know it's my fault you’re in here, buddy. And I know you don't owe me anything, at all, ever again. But just talk to her."

"I can't. I'm sorry," he whispered and before he had time to even act out his plan to get out of seeing her, the prison guard had lifted his radio to his mouth and was mumbling something about him standing. Two guards from the opposite sides of the room began moving towards his booth, at which point Michael let out an almighty roar of profanity towards Lincoln, slamming himself into the resistant Plexiglas and really grabbing their attention. Three guards stormed into the booth and crushed his body to the invisible barrier between the brothers. Michael hit the Plexiglas with an audible cry of pain and looked down briefly to catch Lincoln's eye. "Tell her I love her," he whispered as he was dragged back to his cell.


	4. Chapter 4

Sara walked into Lincoln's house, shutting the door quietly behind her. Glancing around, she was surprised at how quiet it was, then decided Linc must still be at work. Tossing her keys onto the coffee table, she grabbed the pile of mail, flipping through it. She did it on occasion, hoping to find a letter with Michael's handwriting on it. Not that Michael would write to Lincoln, he didn't need to. Lincoln got to see Michael every week. Sighing, she shrugged out of her coat. It was probably time to move back into her own place again.

Lincoln was oblivious to the fact someone had walked into his house. He was far too busy to notice something so trivial. His eyes glazed over the well used, crumbled magazine in his hand as he used his other to stroke up and down his length. He kept his eyes closed for the most part, letting his head loll back against the tiled wall from where he sat on the closed toilet lid, pants around his ankles and erection in hand. No one was home and he was horny. What better way to relieve some pressure than a quick one with the stars of the Playboy magazine?

Sara walked down the hallway and opened the closet door. Grabbing a towel out, she moved back towards the bathroom. She ran a hand through her hair and pushed open the door, ready for a nice long shower. She got something completely different instead. Letting out a loud gasp, mixed with a shriek, she dropped the towel and slammed the bathroom door back closed.

Lincoln's eyes shot open and were met with the horrified hazel orbs of Sara. "Oh...shit!" he mumbled, slamming the magazine into his erection to hide what dignity he had left and trying to stand, only to trip over his pants and tumble to the floor. He let out a groan and his cheeks flushed pink, even though no one could see them. He could see Sara still standing outside, her shadow moving under the thin space under the door.

Sara shuffled around outside the door, trying her best not to burst into laughter. A quiet giggle escaped. "Uh, Linc?" She bit her bottom lip. "Maybe next time you can hang a sock on the door knob?"

"Sara...I..." Lincoln offered, cursing the fact that having been caught had aroused him even further. He stayed lying on the floor, magazine gently peaked into a tent as it lay on his lap and he buried his face in his hands. What could he say? "...I'm just going to live in here for the rest of my life," he said, a small embarrassed laugh escaping his throat.

"But I kind of have to pee," Sara offered. She giggled quietly. "And I'd prefer not to have to go out back in the bushes and do it." She knocked softly. "Come on, I worked in a prison. I've seen a lot of penii."

Lincoln frowned towards the door. "Who says penii?" he called, his immaturity taking over his body as it shook on the floor from his laughter. He shot a look down his body and his straining erection showed no mercy and no sign of leaving in a hurry. "I'll...uh..." he glanced around the bathroom and was suddenly struck with the idea of hiding behind the shower curtain. He scrambled to his feet and hopped behind the dark blue curtain, wrapping it protectively around his lower half. "...I can't leave..." he said.

Sara laughed along with him, pressing her forehead against the door of the bathroom. "Well, would you finish up then? I really have to go." She sighed, "I'll go back to the living room, okay? Big boobs. Naked ladies. Hurry it up."

"How about..." Lincoln called, holding the shower curtain around him. "...you pee really quickly and then go...out or something," he smirked. "Hurry, it's like...not going down..." Lincoln called her in, puzzled by why his erection hadn't shrunk into nothing when his brother's potential girlfriend had caught him. He didn't feel that way for Sara.

"Aren't you a little old for this anyway?" Sara demanded, hitting the door again. "Shouldn't you just go out and get a girlfriend. Come on, Linc. Get out of there. I have to go now!"

"Then pee already!" he bellowed. "I won't look, I swear!"

Sara groaned and opened the bathroom door. "Close your eyes!" She crossed her arms and hopped from one foot to another. "I mean it, I'll kill you if you look."

Lincoln blew a breath of air through his mouth and it vibrated over his lips. "Pfft...I won’t look," he scoffed, focusing his attentions of the white tiles in front of him. "Seen a lot of penii..." he mumbled to himself with a smile. "...you never saw mine," he told her.

"I just did," Sara told him, quickly getting down to business. "And let me tell you, I definitely picked the right brother."

Lincoln pulled the shower curtain back a bit and glared at her. "What's that supposed to mean?" he said quickly, his eyes narrowing at her. "Wait..." his thought trail changed slightly. "When did you see Michael..."

Sara quickly buttoned her pants, letting out a puff of air. "You're not supposed to be looking!" She smirked at him and tilted her head, "I guess your little brother doesn't tell you everything."

“Obviously not,” Lincoln looked to the floor, hurt evident in his voice. “Wait, don’t change the subject…” he objected, looking back up to her. “…you picked the right brother? Size isn’t everything, Sara,” he said with a grin. “Unless you’re you, obviously.”

"Size isn't everything," Sara agreed, turning to the mirror and fluffing her hair. "He knows how to use it too." She caught herself smiling, then glanced down to the sink. "I don't want to talk about Michael."

"Good, because the less I know about my brother's penis, the better," Lincoln screwed his face up in disgust and shot another look down at his own, begging erection. "God damn..." he sighed frustrated. "You'd think more hot women would want to sleep with a celebrity," he groaned.

Sara let out a scoff, and moved out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. "Oh, please, Linc. You could find someone to tap."

Lincoln's body relaxed and he sighed heavily. He pulled his pants back up and tried to hide his erection the best he could, buttoning his jeans carefully and painfully, before following Sara out of the bathroom. "So, when are you going to go see Michael?" he called after her as she disappeared down the hall. He totally ignored the fact she had said she didn't want to talk about him. "I can't have you living here forever if we aren't fucking, Sara," he grinned jokingly. "I've been reduced to masturbating in my bathroom, and even that isn't sacred anymore!"

Sara shrugged, sinking down onto his couch. "Hey, I offered you a fuck, remember? You're the one who wanted to keep this platonic." She stretched out, shutting her eyes. "I thought we weren't going to talk about Michael."

“Yeah, well…” Lincoln said to her on a breath, remembering the night Sara had indeed offered herself to him. “It was for your own good. I can’t have my brother’s future wife all loved up on me now, can I?” he grinned at her and perched on the arm of his couch. “Why don’t you want to talk about Michael anyways?”

"Stop calling me that. Michael and I are over." Sara looked at her hands, wondering why Lincoln was so insistent on twisting this particular knife. "What's there to say about Michael, Lincoln? He told me he didn't want to see me."

"But Michael is an ass, Sara," Lincoln said matter of factly. "This whole, no self worth shit...he thinks he doesn't want to see you but trust me, he does."

Sara shrugged, sitting up and pulling her legs to her chest. Laying her head on her knees, she asked Lincoln something she'd wondered for the past several months. "Does he ever say anything about me."

Lincoln rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Only like, all the time," he told her sarcastically. "He's not over you, Sara, he never will be." Lincoln stared at her as he offered her a glimmer of hope for her broken relationship. "And to be perfectly honest, I don't think you're over him either," he pointed at her accusingly. "If you were, you wouldn't be living here, waiting for his every call or every letter now would you?"

"He doesn't call though," Sara shook her head. "He doesn't write. And he isn't going to." She shrugged, "Maybe I should just be done, Linc. Move on."

“Maybe,” he shrugged, challenging her. “I don’t care really…as long as we can come to an agreement about the bathroom thing,” he thumbed over his shoulder. “Look,” he sighed, moving from his position to sit next to her on the couch. “Michael isn’t like me or you, Sara. He can’t see you, write to you or hear your voice on the phone because it will kill him. He can’t see, smell or hear what he can’t have.”

"He can have me," Sara's voice cracked and she finally broke down, putting her face in her hands. She hadn't cried in front of him since the night she showed up drunk at his front door. A sob racked her body. "He can have me."

Lincoln tapped the side of his head forcefully. “But up here, he doesn’t think so. You need to convince him otherwise,” he told her, watching her cry. “Please stop crying,” he smiled weakly. “I can’t…hugging is out of the question at the moment,” he glared at his crotch again.

"I'm glad you're able to be turned on with me, here, crying," Sara sniffled, wiping at her eyes. She shook her head. "This is why we don't talk about Michael."

“Because your crying turns me on, yeah that’s it,” he gave her a soft smile, lightening the mood and making a small chuckle escape her lips. “And it wasn’t you…sorry to have to inform you…” he blushed. “Not unless you’re a secret playboy bunny?” he arched an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, yeah. You figured out my deep, dark secret." Sara laughed quietly, and leaned over, laying her head on his shoulder. "I miss him, Linc."

Lincoln wrapped his arm around her shoulder and rubbed it gently. "I know," he sighed, comforting her with his deep voice. He turned his head and planted a kiss to her forehead. "I know," he repeated softly.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael's release day from prison!

Sara leaned against the hood of Lincoln's car, her arms crossed. She wouldn't admit it to him, but she had changed her outfit six times that morning. Six times, and for all she knew, he was going to scream at her and storm off when he saw her. Or not speak to her at all. Or kiss her. She wasn't sure which scenario would be worse. Clearing her throat, she glanced at her watch, then at Linc. "Any second."

Lincoln glanced over to her and nodded, "Any second."

The warden's words were a blur as he spoke to Michael. He forced a smile and he nodded, flashing a glance over the shorter man's shoulder to where Lincoln stood, arms and ankles crossed over one another against his car. Michael shook the warden's hand and his heart began to pound in his chest. The massive alarmed doors sounded and slid open and the sun spilled into the lobby and onto his face. Michael squinted as he was led from the prison in the suit he had gone there in, only this time, his tie hung loose around his neck, his white shirt had the sleeved rolled up to his elbows and his jacket hung loosely over his arm. The sand of the yard splattered against his expensive shoes and he took his first tentative steps in the outside world for fourteen months.

Lincoln stood up, watching Michael for a second without moving. Slowly, he made his way over to his little brother, arms open. Sara watched the scene unfold, and had to glance down. She wasn't going to cry.

Michael felt the overwhelming feeling to cry creep up into his throat and he panted harder to try and calm himself. He didn't want to cry, but the emotion of seeing Lincoln and being able to touch him again was too much. Michael dropped his small box of belonging and it hit the dirt with a cloud of smoke. He launched himself into Lincoln's arms and gripped at his shirt like he would fall if he let go. "Lincoln..." his brother's name was all he could say, choked out of his strained throat and he let a single tear roll down his cheek and soak into his brother's shoulder.

"Hey buddy," Lincoln told him, his voice catching in his throat. He only patted Michael's back at first, but soon wrapped his arms around his little brother, pulling him into a tight hug. He was immediately catapulted through a hundred memories of their childhood. Being separated, put in different homes, him going to juvie, having to leave Michael, and Michael still being glad to see him at their reunion time and time again. "I missed you."

Lincoln's words echoed into Michael's body when he spoke and he felt like a child again. He couldn't help but flick a glance over towards Lincoln's car and noticed Sara standing on the passenger side with her arm resting against the hot roof of Lincoln's Mustang with her head bowed. If he didn't know better, he'd say she was shuffling her feet in the dirt. "She's here," he breathed with mixed emotion into Lincoln's ear.

"Yeah, I tried to lock her in a closet, so she wouldn't come, but she tunnelled her way out," Lincoln said, pulling away from Michael slightly. He patted his shoulder. "You look good, man. You're free." He patted Michael again, then looked back to Sara. "How do you think she looks?"

Michael was speechless, his mouth agape and staring at Sara like he was a forbidden treasure. She looked sad, but happy, a mixture of emotions he knew he was responsible for in both cases. Her fingers scratched gently over the roof of the car and the wind whipped at her hair, sending its glowing auburn curls flying behind her gently. "She..." Michael looked stumped, forgetting his brother was there for a second. Lincoln bent to pick up Michael's box of belongings and when Sara turned to face him, he quickly averted his gaze to the ground. "What do I say?" Michael whispered to his feet.

"You say what's inside," Lincoln whispered, nudging him to Sara. "Don't ask me. I've never been able to see inside that brain of yours. Here's an idea though. She probably doesn't want to hear an apology."

Michael's mouth went dry and he looked back up to Sara as they walked towards the car. She didn't look away from him, which was a good sign. The sun shone in his eyes, which were still watery from tears, and the fact he had not been allowed contacts in prison. Michael reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of thick, black rimmed glasses that sat on his face and barely covered his eyes. He stopped at the front of Lincoln's car while he went to put his stuff in the trunk, and pushed his sweaty palms into his pockets. "Sara..." he breathed a sigh of relief.

Sara tilted her head to the side slightly, taking in a sharp breath when Michael spoke her name. It had been too long, entirely too long since she'd heard him say it. Biting her bottom lip, she glanced away. He was out. He was free, he was safe. He was okay, and she didn't know how to feel about it. "You're talking to me now?"

Michael's heart broke in his chest at her snide remark, even if he did deserve it. Michael averted his gaze too, finding a patch of grass by his feet much more stimulating. "I didn't want you to see me treated like a monster," he said slowly not looking up at her. "It wasn't like Fox River, Sara." He said her name again and he saw her flinch but he couldn't register it as good or bad.

He said her name again. And she was done, she was completely gone. He sounded so hurt, so wounded, so broken. She didn't know if she'd ever needed anyone as much as she needed him that very second. Fighting back a sob, she closed the distance between them. Tossing her body roughly against his, she wrapped him in a hug, pressing her face into his neck. "Fourteen months. Two weeks. Five days. 445 days. 10, 680 hours."

Michael wrapped his arms around her and felt the air leave his body as well as a few tears. He simply held her to him; small moans escaping his mouth with each breath. "I thought I was the only one counting," he whispered into her hair. She still smelt the same, like cinnamon, aloe and a hint of apple. Everything Michael had endured in the last fourteen months melted away and there was nothing but them.

"Every day," Sara whispered into his neck. She gave up on trying to hide her tears, and let them flow freely. A stab of bitterness crossed through her stomach, but she pushed it away. "I counted every day." Her grip on him tightened, and before she could stop it, a sob racked through her body.

"Shhh...please, Sara..." Michael's own sobs hitched in his throat and he pulled away from her. He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping at the tears as they stained her face. Michael searched her face for any sign of anger, anything he could interpret as a hint of fury towards him. Towards how he had been towards her over the last fourteen months. They had been hellish for him, and he could only imagine how they must have felt for her to be alone on the outside. Without a second thought, Michael pressed his lips to hers, holding her face in his hands, and kissed her slowly. Their tears mingled and they tasted each other’s when they parted and rested their foreheads together.

Sara's arms wrapped around his neck when he kissed her, and she melted into him. All the anger and hurt and frustration was gone. She could leave that all behind, leave it inside the prison along with whoever he thought he had been while he was inside. She rested her forehead against his, and brought her hand up to his face, gently rubbing away with his tears with the pads of her thumbs. "I guess you're glad I came."

Michael had no words for her, only the feel of his lips as he seized her mouth for another gut twisting kiss. It had been too long. He had gone too long without the feel of her against him, without her lips on his and her hands on his skin. The kiss intensified and he devoured her mouth hungrily, tasting each and every ridge of her mouth with his tongue and letting a quiet moan of satisfaction escape his throat. When he thought he might suffocate, he pulled his lips from hers and panted hard, rolling his head against hers with his eyes closed. "God, Sara...it's been...I’m so glad you came," he whispered.

Sara cupped his face in her hands, kissing him again. She placed several small kisses against his lips, then one on the side of his mouth. She kissed the tip of his nose, each of his cheeks, the trail his tears had made. She dropped her mouth to his jaw, and when she was completely satisfied that his face had been thoroughly covered, she dropped her mouth back to his lips, sucking gently on his bottom lip. Her voice came out little more than a choked whisper, "I can't believe I'm actually touching you."

Michael entire body melted to putty in her hands and he just let her feel him all over. He didn't care that Lincoln was standing at the back of his car, tapping his toe into the dirt and examining the sky while he tried to drown out the sound of long parted lovers. He didn't care that half of the world could see them. "It's not a dream this time..." he told himself out loud, letting his hand glide over Sara's body at its leisure. His hand skimmed over her behind, up her back, across her breasts, up her neck and cupped her face again, crushing his lips to hers. "You feel so..." he panted through passionate desire. "Sara..." he breathed her name again, a slight warning to the restriction in his pants.

Sara pressed herself closer to him as he touched her. They had hardly ever kissed in front of Lincoln, let alone gone as far as to feel each other up in the middle of a public parking lot, but she didn't care. Pressing her mouth to his, she ran her hand down his shirt, brushing her fingers across the bulge in his pants.

Michael gasped when Sara touched him. Never had he felt anything so primal surface within him and he grabbed her hips, slamming her body to his. In a flash, he walked her backwards until her body hit Lincoln's car and he continued his assault of her smile, gently nipping at her bottom lip and licking away his teeth marks. He slid his hands up under the hem of her blouse, skimming his hot, needy fingers over her smooth skin. He smiled against her mouth and kissed his way to her ear lobe. "You're so warm..." he whispered.

Lincoln cleared his throat, letting out a cough. "Umm. Bonnie. Clyde." He coughed again, this time a little louder and knocked on the roof of his car. "I know you two kids are happy to see each other. And understandably horny, but you're on probation, Mike, and I don't think either of you need an inappropriate PDA wrap on your records." He knocked on the car again. "Plus, I just washed her this morning."

Michael tore his swollen lips from Sara's and smiled at her. "I'm sorry," he breathed, rearranging her shirt and smoothing her hair down the side of her head. For now, his pleading erection would have to wait as he pulled his body from hers reluctantly. He gave his brother a quirk of his eyebrow and tilted his head. "Sorry, Linc," he grinned.

Sara smoothed down her shirt and ran her hand through her hair. She kept her eyes on Michael, and pressed her hand to his cheek, not being able to stop touching him. She let out a breathy giggle. "I'm not sorry."

Michael couldn’t resist kissing her one more time before he pulled open the rear door of the olive green classic and offering her the seat with an open palm. “Ladies first,” he smiled; letting her shuffle into the car before he followed her and closed the door behind them. A third dull thud signified Lincoln was in the driver’s seat and the rumble of the engine told Michael they would be home in no time.

Sara turned to Michael, pulling him closer to her. She would have liked to think of herself as above making out in the backseat of a Mustang, but she wasn't. In fact, it sounded like just about the most appealing idea she'd ever come across. Pressing her lips to his neck, she whispered, "You'll never know how much I've missed you."

Michael turned his head so their lips were almost touching. "Never?" he smirked, gently pecking her lips with his. "Never, ever?" he breathed between kisses. Michael smoothed a hand over Sara's stomach and let it glide up her torso where it lazily teased the side of her breast. They hadn’t had a lot of time to make love, in fact they had only done it a few times before he had uncovered the conspiracy and took the punishment dealt to him. Regardless, he had never forgotten how Sara's body felt and moved under him. And he never would.

Sara leaned against the car door, letting out a gasp as his hand skimmed intimately over her. "Michael. . ." Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment before she leaned in and kissed him slowly. She cupped his face in her hands and felt her eyes filling with tears. "Never, ever push me away again."

Michael shook his head "I won't," he breathed, oblivious to his brother as he crawled over Sara's slumped body and captured her mouth with his.

Sara kissed him until she absolutely had to break away from the kiss in order to breathe. She ran her hands over his close-shaven head and ducked her head, moving her lips to his neck and sucking gently on his adam's apple. "I didn't let myself think about this moment. I was. . . I was worried you still wouldn't want me."

Michael let out a breathy groan into the car, gripping at Sara’s hips and grinding his solid manhood into her. “I would never not want you, Sara,” he breathed, lifting her hand and locking their fingers together. His mouth explored her body like it never had before, familiarising itself with ever intimate piece of flesh that made her gasp and giggle with his touch. His other hand slid down her body and gently stroked over the impending wetness between her thighs.

Sara's breath caught in her throat, and she rasped his name against his neck as he stroked her through her jeans. She was glad she still had half a sense left and didn't wiggle out of her pants right then and there. She couldn't contain a groan though, and she met his mouth in another long, lingering wet kiss. "God, I missed you."

Michael met her lips for a feverish kiss, his grin widening. He still had it. He still had the ability to make Sara moan his name with the simplest of touches. God, if she groaned his name like that at a simple, caring caress, he could only imagine, with vivid Technicolor and surround sound, how his name would sound escaping her lips as she came.

"Alrighty!" Lincoln finally announced, turning into a parking lot and turning the car off. He vaguely remembered an instance where his brother had brought a girl home at the age of 17 and they had spent a couple of hours in Michael's bedroom, panting and groaning loudly. This, however, was bordering on pornographic, and he no longer wanted to be a voyeur. He was glad he had taken a little incentive and glanced at the building he was parked in front of, before turning back to the horny kids in the backseat. "Excuse me! Horny and Hornier. Can I have your attention, please? Michael, get your hand outta Sara's shirt."

Michael pulled his flushed face up from Sara's and stared at his brother who loomed over the back of the seat. "What?" Michael asked innocently, not removing his hand from Sara's shirt.

Lincoln rolled his eyes and took his wallet out, removing to objects that looked like credit cards. He offered them to Michael. "These are keys to room 7B. You have the room for the night, but I made dinner reservations for us all at seven. If you think you can make it." A wry smile lit up his face. "I guess I'll understand if you two stand me up." He cleared his throat again and looked vaguely embarrassed. "There's a bag up there with clothes for both of you. So, ah. Happy mating."

Michael looked between Lincoln and Sara several times before focusing on Sara. "You know about this?" he asked her, his voice deep and changed with desire.

"I didn't know about this," Sara murmured, sitting up and smirking. She shot Lincoln a grateful look, before turning back to Michael. "But I'm not opposed."

Michael moved off of Sara and took the key cards from Lincoln with a smile. "Thanks, Linc," he beamed, offering Sara his hand as he pulled the door open and slid out. He scanned the parking lot and took in the huge, towering hotel before them. Confused, he turned back to Lincoln and hung his head through the front window. "Linc, you can't afford this..." he objected politely.

"I can afford it fine," Lincoln insisted, shaking his head. He motioned to Sara. "I owe you, Michael. Way more than this. Now, you have a lady standing over there who you shouldn't keep waiting."

For lack of knowing what else to do, Michael extended his hand to Lincoln and rubbed his huge palm over Lincoln's lightly stubbled head. It was a silent thank you from their childhood. A way that had always showed the affection they didn't know how to otherwise. Michael turned to Sara and gave her a nervous smile. Making out in the back of a car was fine, almost losing himself in dry humping was also fine, but actually making love after fourteen month was something to be reckoned with. "You know, it won't be great..." he offered her shyly, taking her hand and walking towards the doors of the hotel.

Sara took his hand and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling him close to her and kissing him again. She felt the sudden urge to cry again and forced it away. Laying her head on his shoulder, she whispered, "Oh, Michael. It's going to be amazing."

As they walked through the lobby towards the elevator, Michael felt many pairs of eyes burning into him. Most of Chicago recognized him, and most feared him as the dangerous, maximum-security escapee the media had made him out to be. He lowered his head, pressed the call button and swallowed a nervous lump in his throat. His skin prickled and he wished the elevator would hurry up, before he didn't want to go to room 7B and make love to Sara anymore.

Sara wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder. She gave him a serious look, and glanced around, taking in the eyes watching him. She lowered her voice, "Hey. Stop thinking what you're thinking."

Michael gave her a weak smile and welcomed the ding of the elevator with a massive sigh. They stepped in and the lobby quickly bustled to life when the doors closed, ignoring the fact that he was in the building at all. He scratched at the side of his head lightly. He wanted to say something but he didn't know what. They wouldn't just walk into the room and tumbled into bed so he felt he had to say something. The elevator chimed again and they stepped out onto the seventh floor. The rooms were numbered according to the floor they were on with a letter. Michael was thankful 7B was just two doors from the elevator, and that 7A was a storage closet and there was a stairwell between their room and 7C. He smirked to himself when the though of Sara screaming his name filled his ears again.

Sara wrapped her arms around him from behind, kissing his neck as he stuck the card in to unlock the door. When he got it open, she refused to let go, keeping her hold on him as he walked into the room, practically dragging her behind him. The door shut, and she let go, glancing around the spacious room. "Well. All alone."

"Yeah..." Michael breathed, suddenly so much more nervous than he was in the back of Lincoln's Mustang. He tapped the key card to his thumbnail nervously and looked around the room. It was lavishly decorated, sound proofed from the city below and had the biggest queen size bed Michael had ever seen, sitting to one side of the studio style room with deep crimson silk sheets.

Sara glanced around the room, noticing the suitcase leaning against the closet door. She smirked a little and glanced over at Michael, almost shyly. "He was pretty sure of himself, wasn't he? I was half-expecting you to tell me you never wanted to see me again."

"Sara..." Michael stepped towards her, reaching to place the key cards on the cabinet next to the door. "...Just because I didn't want you to see me in prison, doesn't mean I never wanted to see you again," he gave her a weak smile and smoothed her hands over his. "Lincoln knows us both...too well," he frowned, wondering just how his brother had known they would react to each other. "If you don't...we don't have to do this now, if you don't want to."

"I want to, Michael," Sara whispered, finally closing the distance between them. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "I want you. So badly." She glanced up at him. "If you want me?"

Michael pressed his forehead to hers and let his hands find her hips. "I've wanted you for so long..." he breathed, relieved she was on the same page as him. "When we made love...the night before I turned myself in...I never wanted to let go," he confessed quietly, stroking some strands of hair from her face and letting his fingers linger behind her ear where he knew she had a patch of skin that sent her wild.

Sara's breath caught in her throat, and she let out a small moan of anticipation. "Oh, Michael. I didn't want to let go either." She pressed her lips to his jaw. "I would have given anything to keep you there with me."

Michael had heard enough. He captured her lips in his and resumed his earlier assault on her body, only this time it was less desperate and tenderer. They had all the time in the world. "Oh, Sara..." he moaned against her skin, letting his hands slide over her bare stomach and around to her spine. His fingertips dances over her nerves, making her body tingle and all the tiny hairs on her body stand to attention. He grabbed her hips and backed them towards the bed, instantly letting his body fall back onto the silk when his knee collided with the edge.

Sara straddled his waist, pressing soft kisses to his neck. She met his lips again and kissed him hard, finally fully realizing he was there under her. He was real. She pulled away from the kiss, and laughed softly, "I'm never letting you go again."

Michael grinned up at her and grazed his hands over her thighs that rested on either side of his waist. He moved to remove his glasses, sliding them over the top of his head and letting them drop off the edge to the carpeted floor below. "I love you," he smiled at her. "So...much.”

"I love you," Sara returned. She leaned up, pulling her shirt over her head in one swift motion. She found her hands shaking and she didn't know why. Smiling down at him, she whispered, "I've always loved you."

Michael's arousal pressed painfully against the expensive material of his slacks and he felt his breath leave him when Sara slipped her shirt over her head. Her milky skin came into view and he reached out with a tentative hand to stroke at it. She was real. There was no more dreaming. No more wishing he would never wake up just so he could be with her. Sara was real and undressing above him while he watched with excited awe. Her declaration of love had him stunned to silence and all he could do was swallow nervously.

Sara smiled down at him and tugged on his shirt. "Sit up, baby." When he did as she asked, she began to slowly unbutton his shirt. After each button, she placed a kiss on his chest until the shirt was over. Smiling, she pressed a hand to his chest. "I've tried to picture these every night."

"Every night?" Michael rasped, gulping a lump in his throat each time her lips left their searing brand on his skin. He smiled and hugged her to his skin as he slipped his arms out of the crumpled, white material. "That's a lot of picturing," he grinned, unable to resist letting his hands slide over her back, around her ribcage and flutter their touch over her bra clad nipples that peaked eagerly under the material.

"A lot of picturing," Sara confirmed, running her hands down his chest to his belt. She quickly undid it, then pushed his zipper down. "Okay? You know what. I don't think I can take this slow."

Michael smirked at her and fumbled with the button on her jeans. He tore them open and pushed his hands under the fabric to cup her behind and pull her roughly against him. She let out a moan followed by an erotic giggle. "Me either," he growled.

Sara groaned against his neck, thrusting her hips into him. She kissed him and smiled, laughing quietly. "Okay. I need you naked. Right now."

Michael grabbed at her shoulders and pulled her with him when he fell backwards against the cool sheets. He rolled over, pinning Sara to the bed beneath him and running his fingers through her hair that spilled out onto the sheets. He pulled away when his erection was too painful to stay hidden and he crawled backwards off the end of the bed, stood up and quickly shed his clothes, keeping eye contact the entire time. "You too," he commanded as he disrobed, kicking his shoes across the room and panting with anticipation.

Sara didn't need to be told twice. Her pants followed the direction of his, tossed to the side of the room. She lay back down on the bed, writhing in anticipation for a moment as he watched her. Sitting back up, she took his hand, pulling him back down on the bed with her. "Come here."

"God, you're so beautiful," Michael breathed as their skins touched, sparking every nerve ending in his body to life. "It's been too long..." he whimpered against her jaw as he nuzzled her neck and kissed at her flesh. His hands trailed over her body with a feathery touch, teasing and savouring the feel of her under him. He settled his hips between her legs, parting her knees with his own and kissing her ferociously.

Sara spread her legs further apart and got more comfortable on the bed. "It's definitely been too long," Sara whispered, running her hands down his chest. "Much too long." She took a deep breath, "You're too gorgeous."

"This isn't going to be enough..." Michael sad sadly, bracing himself above her body on locked arms and tilting his arousal against hers. Their organs touched and Sara's slick, honey like juices coated the outside of his erection. He reached a hand between their bodies and positioned himself at her entrance. "...I’m not promising a long session," he laughed nervously, already shaking from just thinking about how she felt.

"It's enough for now," Sara murmured, fluttering her eyes closed. She had to keep them open, she wanted to watch him for every second of it. She leaned up, pressing her mouth to his. "You are enough for me. Just you. Always."

Michael stopped panicking and pushed into her a little. Both their bodies shuddered as Michael entered her slowly, little by little until he filled her completely. He paused, stilling his movements and opening his eyes again to take in Sara's gaze. "Are you okay?" he asked, brushing his hand over her brow and curling his fingers behind her ear. His legs were twitching, eager to begin pushing his body up into her until she called his name, but he had to make sure he hadn't hurt her. Sara was hot, wet and tight around his erection and the last thing he wanted was for this to hurt her.

"God, yes," Sara murmured, tossing her head back against the pillow. She raised her hips a little, meeting him mid thrust. "You feel. . . you feel. . . Oh, Michael. I'm better than okay."

Michael pulled himself from and pushed into her again, still at a slow pace. Her core clenched around him, pulling him deeper and releasing some of Sara's womanly juices. Michael hovered above her, letting a low groan escape his mouth each time he disappeared inside of her. He watched her face intently. It told him everything he wanted to know. Sara's face would wince with pleasure each time he tilted his hips this way, and her mouth hung open as her breath left her when he ground against her that way. It was like reading a book of all her thoughts. "God, Sara..." he breathed, collapsing against her bare chest and grazing his lips over her neck. "You're so...tight..." he growled, finding sudden un sparked passion and increasing his pace.

Sara groaned as he quickened his pace within her. She wrapped her leg around his waist, letting out another moan. "Oh, Michael. . ." Sara couldn't come up with anything to say, so she just kept repeating his name over and over. All of the emotions she'd been holding in for over a year, spilled out, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, as tears began to roll down her cheeks.

Michael slapped a hand to one of Sara's thighs and dug his fingers into her flesh as he moved. His other hand cradled the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair and stroking her delicate skin there. He felt her body rock and he looked up to her face, his eyes darting across her features with a concerned frown. "Sara?" he panted, instantly stopping his movements and brushing her tears away with his thumb. "Why are you crying?" he breathed rapidly, his voice soft and caring.

"Because this is so perfect," Sara whispered, brushing her lips across his and trying to control her crying. "Because you're so perfect. Because you're here, and I'm here. And we're together." She pressed her forehead to his, moving her hands to his hips and encouraging him to return to his thrusting. "We'll always be together."

Michael's heart swelled at her words and he kissed her cheeks, kissing away her tears. He began thrusting again and his mouth moved to covers hers. His hand returned to her hip, smoothing up and down her thigh as he thrust with breathy grunts. They kissed until they couldn't breathe anymore and Michael panted hard against the corner of her mouth. "Sara, I...I need to come inside of you," Michael spoke softly with a deep, chocolately voice. "Come with me," he begged, whispering the words in her ear.

"I want you inside of me," Sara moaned, digging her fingers into his shoulder. "I need you. . . I need you. . ." The words became a mantra as her orgasm washed over her. Clutching onto him, she cried out his name.

"Oh, Sara...Oh, Sara....Oh..." Michael panted as his orgasm hit him hard and striking him blind. White sparks flashed behind his eyes and he emptied himself into Sara with everything he had. His breath left him and then he forgot how to breathe, thrusting into her contracting muscles until he was spent. "...god..." he breathed, falling onto Sara's sweaty body and kissing her again. He let his lips linger on hers before resting his forehead against hers and brushing a strand of sticky, damp hair from her brow. Sara's eyes were closed and a content smile spread across her lips. "Will you marry me?" Michael suddenly whispered to her, gently coaxing hers eyes open with the smooth back of his hand.

Sara's eyes fluttered slowly open, and she stared at him for a second. She briefly wondered if her post-sex blissful haze had caused her to imagine the words she thought had just fallen from his mouth. "Will I. . . will I what?"

"Will you marry me, Sara?" Michael asked again, swallowing nervously when he thought she might reject him.

"Yes," Sara whispered, leaning up and brushing her lips across his. "Yes, yes, yes."

"Yes?" Michael asked her through kisses. "Like, yes, yes?" he asked, his heart starting to race in his chest again.

"Like yes, yes," Sara mumbled against his lips, barely able to kiss him thought her smile. "Yes, yes, yes." She pulled him tightly to her body. "Will you marry me?"

Michael let a breath of laughter leave his lips at her proposition. "Yes, I'll marry you!" he chuckled excitedly. "I love you, and I’ll marry you, and I’ll love you until the end of time." He pressed his lips to hers again, sealing his promise with a kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

Sara drifted into consciousness, hearing Michael hovering above her singing. She fluttered her eyes open and frowned up at his smiling, singing face. Glancing at the clock she saw it was just past five am. Turning over, she put her pillow over her head. "Michael."

Michael smirked and continued his singing, leaning closer to her. “Have yourself…a merry little Christmas…” he droned, his mouth perfectly forming the words his throat pushed out in his magnificent, baritone voice that was like liquid chocolate in the air.

"Go back to sleep," Sara murmured, shuffling further under the covers. "It's early. It's cold. Goodnight."

“Good morning!” Michael sang, pulling the covers back to expose her face a little. “Sara…look,” he whispered against her face, his breath tickling her cheek as he tried to get her to open her eyes at the white cascade outside their bedroom window.

"Snow. Great," Sara mumbled, looking up and glancing out the window. "Plenty of reasons to get into accidents. They'll probably call me into work.”

“Don’t go,” Michael pouted, pressing his lips to her cheek and all over her face randomly. “I’ll call them and tell them you got into a husband related accident,” he smirked, running his hand down her side, tickling her ribs and resting it to her hip.

Sara found herself melting into his body, a small smile playing on her face. It was their first Christmas, their first real holiday. She brushed her lips across his. "Merry Christmas."

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Michael smiled and pressed his lips to hers again. The snow was so peaceful outside but it was deafening to watch. It mesmerised Michael and he tucked his chin into Sara’s shoulder, watching the large, irregular flakes fall to the earth without a sound. Shuffling further into the blanket, he wrapped his arm around her waist and held her to him lovingly.

Sara wrapped her arms around him and gently brushed her fingertips over his closely-shaven scalp. She let out a content sigh and smiled. "It's gorgeous, baby."

Michael sighed and pressed his lips to hers. “Not as gorgeous as you,” he mused, pulling the covers up to their neck and feeling the warmth radiate from her body to his.

"Liar. . ." Sara mumbled against his mouth, running a hand through her long hair. "I slept hard last night."

“Why’s that?” Michael asked, studying her face in the bright, whiteness of morning. He reached out and tuck a strand of her auburn locks behind her ear, stroking her brow with a smile.

"Probably because. . ." Sara reached up and pressed her mouth to his. "That I had a long day at work yesterday. And you kept me up too late."

Michael pouted and pressed himself further into her body. “I’m sorry,” he smiled against her skin. “Guess we started celebrating early.”

Sara smirked and giggled quietly, brushing her hand over his forehead. "Think Santa came?"

Michael let out a low chuckle and buried his face in her chest, smirking against her bosom. “I know I did.”

"Michael. . ." Sara groaned, arching her back up into him. "You're ridiculous, you know that? It's Christmas. Not sex day."

“I know,” Michael said softly, rolling away from her and bouncing to the other side of the bed. He leant over the edge, twisted up in his grey t-shirt and retrieved and small, blue brushed velvet box with a red ribbon wrapped around it. Michael shuffled up the bed, sitting up against the headboard and looked down at her, holding out the box. “Merry Christmas.”

Sara gave him a look and took the box. "Michael Scofield, we said we weren't going to do real gifts!" She pushed it back to him. "We're saving for the wedding."

Michel pushed the box back towards her and let it go so she had no choice but to catch the heavy object. “You said we weren’t going to do real gifts…after I’d got this made,” he smiled, his eyes flicking between the box and hers. “Open it.”

Sara gave him a look and opened the box, a small smile playing across her face when she took out a platinum rose with her name engraved. She glanced up to him, "Michael, I love it."

“Good,” he smiled, watching her as she twisted the mock origami rose in her fingers. It was exactly the same as paper rose, except it had been sculpted in platinum with Sara’s name on of the sides of the petal. “I’m running out of paper,” he joked weakly.

Sara pressed her hand to his cheek and leaned up, placing a kiss on his lips. She stood and moved over to her closet, taking out a box. "Ready for yours?"

Michael rubbed his hands together expectantly and felt a shiver of excitement chase down his spine. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Not doing real gifts, huh?” he teased. “I’m ready.”

Sara sat the large, light-weight box in front of him, smiling softly. "I had yours before we said we weren't doing real gifts either."

Michael narrowed his gaze at her and gently pulled the ribbon that was closing the box. He lifted the lid when the soft silky materials fell to either side and peered inside. He frowned, a smile spreading across his lips as he pulled out a photograph of a brand new black Mitsubishi Warrior with alloy chrome spares. “A photo of a Warrior,” he chuckled a little with a nod. “Nice.”

Sara leaned over and giggled, placing a kiss to his cheek. "Baby, look under the tissue paper."

Michael quickly frowned again and set the photograph aside. He pulled back a layer of the white fibrous paper and the sound of metal against plastic caught his attention. He dug at the paper more excitedly, finally pulling out the plastic casing of an alarm button box and a shiny, silver key. Michael’s eyes went wide with shock and he picked up the photograph, looking at it more careful. He noticed the arrangement of tools in the background, the white folding door and the blue Cubs cap sitting on the workbench. He pointed a finger to it and looked up at her. “This is our garage.”

Sara fell back down on her pillow, fluttering her eyes shut. "Tell him what he's won!" She giggled and smirked up at him. "A brand new, fancy truck!"

Michael tried to speak but only the sound of air leaving his lungs came out. He looked back to her with a shocked expression, his mouth agape and turning dry. “T…Truck?” he whispered. “In our garage? Right now?”

"Yes, baby!" Sara giggled, rolling her eyes. "It's in our garage. Right now. All yours."

Michael grinned widely and practically dived on her body, pinning her to the bed as he straddled her and cupping her face in his hand while he planted quick kisses all over her skin. “Thank you…Thank you!” he gasped between kisses, making the entire bed bounce with his childish excitement.

Sara couldn't help but laugh at his behavior. Briefly, she wondered when the last time he had a real Christmas was. "I take it you like it?"

“Like it?” Michael jeered with a wide eyed grin. “Sara, I love it!” He giggled excitedly, pulling her against his chest and gripping the key tightly in his hand as he hugged her. “Can I go see it?” He almost shook with anticipation of her answer, inching closer to the edge of the bed.

Sara smirked and met his lips in a quick kiss. She pulled away and laid back down, closing her eyes. "Uh-huh. You go play. I'll sleep."

“What? No!” Michael said defiantly, standing next to the bed and ripping the covers from her body. Sara curled up into a ball and buried her face into the pillow. Michael knelt down on the bed and rolled her over to face him, leaning forward and kissing the corner of her mouth. “You have to come with me,” he smirked, hooking an arm under her body and one behind her knee, pulling her into his arms.

"Michael. . ." Sara whined, her voice trailed off into a giggle. She didn't try to fight him. "But I've already seen your truck!"  
Michael bounced her in his arms, rearranging her a little as he began walking from the room. “Not with me you haven’t,” he laughed.

Sara laughed quietly and shook her head. "You're something. You know that, right? You're like a little kid, baby." She thought quietly for a moment. "I don't think I've ever been up this early on Christmas."

“It’s fun, isn’t it?” Michael wiggled his eyebrows at her, knowing she wasn’t very impressed. “When we were kids, Linc and I used to sort of race to be the first up. And the loser always got punched until they woke up,” Michael laughed as he recalled the way his mother used to always shout at Lincoln for hitting Michael. “You learn to get up and make the most of the day,” he smiled, reaching the bottom of the stairs and stepping into the cold lounge. He placed Sara on the couch and lit the fire, brushing his hands off on his pajamas after he was done and pressing his fingers to his lips and looking at her with a wicked smile. “I got you two presents.”

"Well, thank you for not punching me," Sara smirked, arching an eyebrow at him. "What's Linc doing today? He's not going to be alone, is he?" She stood up and wrapped a blanket around her, giving him a look. "You're such a cheater, Scofield. How about we look at that truck first?"

Michael walked over to her and offered his hand, taking the blanket from the back of the couch and wrapping it around her body. “You’ll need this. The garage is freezing,” he said before turning and practically skipping to the door at the side of the kitchen. Michael threw the door open and his truck practically gleamed back at him and he could already hear the faint hum of the engine. He turned to her and grinned. “What, no bow?”

Sara rolled her eyes and wrapped the blanket tighter around her. She leaned in and kissed his cheek, stepping into the garage. "You're welcome, Scofield."

Michael walked around the truck with a grin plastered over his face that he couldn’t hide. He let his hand reach out and touch the shiny blackness as he walked around, letting a low whistle escape his mouth as he walked full circle and was back next to Sara. “She’s absolutely the best present ever. Thanks, baby,” he walked to her and kissed her again. Michael walked backwards and let his eyes fall closed as he pulled the driver's door open with a dull, echoed clunk and smiled again, inhaling the brand new interior smell of the vehicle.

Sara smirked and crossed her arms, stepping closer to him and leaning inside the truck. She had done a pretty good job, in her own opinion. "She, huh? Now I have some competition."

Michael hopped into the driver's seat, reclining in the chair and gripping the steering wheel with a sigh. “No, you really don’t,” he said firmly, looking at her and smiling softly. “Sara, this is fantastic,” he said again, unable to hide his amazement. “You’re the best. At everything.”

"Can I suggest you get dressed before you take her out?" Sara motioned to his pajamas. She laughed quietly, then her smile softened and she reached in, cupping his face in her hands and pulling him to her for a slow, soft kiss. "You're the best, baby. You deserve something nice. I want you to have the best Christmas."

Michael kissed her back softly, letting his mouth hang open and inviting her to deepen the kiss a little. “This one definitely rates up there with ones from when my mom was alive,” he smiled and stepped from the truck again, closed the door and wiping his fingerprints from the edge of the door with his soft cotton t-shirt. “Thank you.”

Sara smirked and rolled her eyes just a little bit. She placed another soft kiss on his lips. "Oh, Michael. You're going to be ridiculously anal about this vehicle, aren't you?" Her smile softened and she placed a hand on his arm. "It feels good to rank up there with those Christmases."

Michael frowned pathetically and stepped forward so he wasn’t leaning on the truck. “Not anal, considerate.” He tugged on her hands and led her back into the warmth of the house, shooting one more glance over his shoulder towards his truck with a beaming grin. “And in answer to your earlier question…” he began, following her into the lounge and crouching down by the fire. “Lincoln has plans today. With LJ.”

Sara relaxed back on the couch and rested her head against the soft cushions. "They aren't stopping by? So it's just me and you all day?" A lazy smile lit up her face. "Good, we can go back to bed."

Michael smirked at her and crawled across the floor, lifting himself onto his knees and resting a hand to either side of her legs. “I thought you said this was no sex day?” he arched is eyebrows at her.

Sara smirked and shook her head just slightly. "I didn't say no sex at all." She leaned forward and kissed him. "And besides, I meant go back to bed and sleep."

“Ahhhhhhh…” Michael sang with a roll of his eyes. “I knew that’s what a bed was for,” he added casually, pushing himself to his feet with a grunt and offering her his hand. “I’m not carrying you back to bed though,” he smiled. “You go warm it up. I’m going to make a coffee because I’m not tired. I’ll be up to watch you sleep soon,” he breathed, kissing her slowly.

Sara wrapped her arms around his neck, returning the kiss. After a long moment, she pulled away, smiling. "Then I won't go to bed either. I don't need to sleep." She kissed him again. "We can stay down here and cuddle."

“I’d like that,” Michael nodded, kissing her again and the hugging her to him. He held the back of her head, softly stroking her hair as she buried her face into his shoulder. “You want me to make you a drink or something?” he asked her, letting her go and padding into the kitchen. The floor was cold under his bare feet and he let out a small hissing sound, arching his feet onto tiptoes.

Sara got comfortable on the couch, resting her head on a pillow and letting out a content sigh. She fluttered her eyes shut. "Some hot chocolate sounds nice. With marshmallows?"'

Michael nodded to himself and pulled open a cupboard above his head. He moved a few jars and pulled out some hot chocolate and then dug around some more until he found a packet of tiny marshmallows. “Marshmallows I can do,” he confirmed, boiling the kettle for some hot water and preparing to mugs. Michael looked over to the couch while he waiting and smiled to himself when he saw Sara had laid back down. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to bed, baby?”

"Mmhmm," Sara mumbled, her eyes still closed. She pulled the blanket up to her chin. "I'm good. Love you."

Michael made the coffee and chocolate with a smile, stirring them quietly and popping seven marshmallows onto the top of the steaming brown liquid. He lifted both mugs and walked back into the lounge, setting them down on the table in front of her and crouching back down beside the couch. “Sara?” he spoke softly, brushing a few strand of her hair from her peaceful features with a dainty touch. When she did not answer he leant forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Love you too, baby.”

  
Sara let out a soft murmur and fluttered her eyes open. It took her a moment to get her surroundings and she blinked rapidly, trying to focus. She covered her mouth, letting out a quiet yawn. "Did I fall asleep?"

Michael looked up from the book he was reading and pushed his glasses back up his nose. He closed the book over his thumb, holding his page while he smiled at her. He had showered, got dressed and was half way through his novel by the time Sara woke up. Maybe he had tired her out last night. He smiled at the thought and her ruffled hair. “Good afternoon.”

Sara arched her eyebrow and sat up, running her fingers through her hair. She cleared her throat, and blushed a little. "How long was I out?"

Michael lifted his wrist and inspected the time. It was just after midday. “Six hours. Just over.”

"Michael!" Sara groaned, sitting all the way up. "Why did you let me sleep so long? This was supposed to be our day together." She tilted her head. "Has the hospital called?"

Michael just smiled at her. She was so cute when she was trying to act mad. “You were tired,” he said. “And no, they didn’t call. I called them and told them you would be sick for most of Christmas.” He leant forward, uncrossing his legs and resting his book, open and pages down to the table in front of them. “We got plenty of days together.”

"But today is special. I wanted it to be good for you." She rested her forehead against his and pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. "I need a shower. Want to come, or are you going to stay and finish your book?"

“I’ve showered already,” Michael said with a shrug. “I’d love to, but I have to watch the dinner. Make sure we don’t end up with a pigeon rather than a turkey,” he laughed.

"You've already started dinner?" Sara arched an eyebrow. "Wow, I'm really useless today." She pressed another quick kiss to his lips. "I'll try to hurry."

Michael hummed against her lips and shook his head. “Not useless, Sara. I watched you sleep. That was fun,” he smirked, smoothing his hands up her arms.

Sara shook her head and pulled away, heading for the stairs. She turned around and smiled at him. "Try not to miss me too much, okay?"

Michael relaxed into the couch cushions and watched her go. “I’ll try.”

Sara hurried upstairs and hopped in the shower, quickly washing off and washing her hair. When she got out she decided to not venture downstairs, and stay up and dry her hair. She let it fall in loose curls around her shoulders and applied a light layer of make-up before getting dressed. Walking slowly out of the bathroom, she remembered Michael telling her he had another present for her.

Michael was busy positioning some presents under the tree when the phone rang. He answered it quickly and Lincoln bellowed his seasons greetings down the phone, making Michael laugh. “Merry Christmas, Lincoln,” he rolled his eyes at his brother’s excitement. “And LJ too,” he added, hearing his nephew in the background. Lincoln spoke some more, mainly about how he loved their gifts and to say thank you to Sara and Michael simply nodded and fumbled with the small black box in his hand.

Sara leaned over the top of the stairs and saw Michael on the phone. "Is that Linc?" she called, walking slowly down towards him. "Tell him I expect my gifts wrapped this year."

Michael frowned. Obviously, they had spent a Christmas together whilst he was in prison and he wondered what Lincoln had bought her. He opened his mouth to speak but Lincoln interrupted him with his answer. “Linc says…” he paused, waiting for his brother to finish the rest of his comment. Michael laughed. “Linc said he can’t wrap himself. He’s told you before.”

Sara rolled her eyes and leaned over, brushing her lips across Michael's cheek and speaking into the phone. "That's why you need a woman in your life!"

Michael laughed again and looked down at her, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Did you hear that? He said he doesn’t think another woman would wrap him up for his brother’s wife.”

Sara tilted her head back and laughed, shaking her head. "That's probably true. We might have to stop sleeping together if he got a girlfriend."

“Lincoln!” Michael scolded into the mouthpiece. “I won’t tell Sara that. Especially from you,” he shook his head and rolled his eyes, offering her the phone. “He wants you,” Michael kissed her quickly and went to check on the dinner.

"Hey lover," Sara took the phone from Michael and winked at him as he left the room. She talked to him for a few minutes, then said hello to LJ before hanging up. She moved into the kitchen where she knew Michael was. "You've had a busy day."

Michael arched his brow and shrugged with a modest smile. “Just making your day even more special,” he said, turning to face her and leaning against the counter. The small box in his back pocket poked against the cupboard and he reached around and pulled it out. “I got you this too. Open it.”

Sara took the box from his hands and glanced up at him. "Michael. . ." He didn't say anything and she opened the box, revealing the most gorgeous engagement ring she had ever seen. She was sure he'd spent entirely too much. "Michael. This is. . ."

“An engagement ring,” he crossed his arms over his chest and watched her face. “For you. From me. You like it?”

"Of course I like it. . ." Sara smiled softly at him. "But, Michael. . . can you afford this?"

Michael smirked at her and closed his eyes slowly. “Could you afford a truck?”

"Yes," Sara said simply, leaning in and pressing her lips to his. "You're worth it."

Michael felt his hands find her hips and hold her body close to his. “Then you have just answered your own question,” he smiled, smoothing his thumb over her cheek while he kissed her again.

"You better calm it down, Scofield," Sara warned against his mouth. "Or we aren't gonna get to dinner."

Michael smiled up at her lovingly and licked his lips. “Talking about my truck and your engagement ring is turning you on?” He teased her lightly.

Sara wrinkled her nose and pressed another kiss to his smiling mouth. "Kissing you."

“Yeah, that will get you hot,” Michael whispered against her mouth, breaking the kiss quickly when the oven timer went off. He groaned a little, the sound escaping his throat and reminding him that he wasn’t really hungry. “Guess I should do this dinner thing,” he shrugged, sliding out from between the counter and her body and opening the oven to peer inside.

"Guess you probably should. . ." Sara teased moving away from him and glancing over his shoulder into the oven. She moved to open the fridge. "Can I get you a drink?"

Michael crouched down in front of the oven and shoved his hand into an oven mitt, and pulled the turkey out of the oven. It was golden brown and he skewed it with a long pronged fork to make sure the juices were running clear. “Sure. What’s in there?” He asked as he began dishing up the rest of the meal for two and then set to work carving the turkey.

"We have water, juice, milk. . ." Sara trailed off and pushed some things out the way. "Iced tea. And beer."

“Hmm…” Michael pondered his decision for a few minutes but then opened the cupboard above his head and pulled out a bottle of wine. “How about we try this alcohol-free1 wine I got us yesterday?” he turned to her and smiled sweetly. “I was told…” he said, inspecting the label. “…It goes perfectly with turkey.”

"Ooh, wine?" Sara took it from him and smirked. She set it down on the dining room table. "You are really getting fancy."

“Just making today special,” Michael smiled modestly and set her dinner down in front of her. He lifted the wine bottle, unscrewing the metal lid and pouring her a glass. The off yellow liquid swirled in its glass and he held it out to her before pouring himself a glass and taking a seat opposite her. He lifted his glass over his dinner and grinned at her. “Merry Christmas.”

Sara lifted her glass and touched his gently, a soft smile playing across her face. "Merry first Christmas, Michael."

 


	7. Chapter 7

Sara sat in the middle of the bed, bridal magazines strewn around her. On the floor lay more kinds of cloth than she could comprehend. Satin. Sateen. Lace. She was pretty sure she even had a polyester sample. Pictures of flowers lay strewn about to. She wasn't even sure she wanted flowers. In the last hour, she had tasted sixteen different types of cake. For what. . . fifty guests, tops?

Michael gently knocked on the bedroom door and entered, holding up a cup of coffee. "I made you a drink," he said sweetly, placing it on the bedside table and glancing over the magazines around her. "All that cake got to you?" he smiled with a laugh, smoothing his hand over her back as he perched on the bed next to her.

Sara made a face at the mere mention of cake, picking up the coffee and taking a long drink. "I think that I would be content to never, ever have another bite of cake in my life." She leaned towards Michael, resting her head on his shoulder. "This is getting crazy."

“You didn’t have to say yes,” Michael pointed out, with a grin. “If it’s too much we can wait. Postpone the wedding,” he offered, hugging her to him and pressing his lips to her forehead.

"But I want to be Sara Scofield. . . I want to be your wife." She sighed and glanced around the room. All that really mattered was that after this whole thing was said and done, she and Michael would be husband and wife. She didn't need a fancy dress or an expensive cake to make her Mrs. Scofield. Biting her lip, she pulled away. "Michael?"

Michael smiled at his surname and her name together. There was something very arousing about hearing Sara say it out loud that made him tingle with a male pride. His name shook him from his daydream and he pulled away slightly to look at her with a frown. “Sara?” he mirrored her tone, smiling as her name left his lips.

Sara cupped his hands in her face, brushing her lips against his. She kissed him slowly and pulled away smiling. "Let's go get married."

Michael laughed at little and motioned to all the bridal magazines strewn out across the comforter. “Sara, we are getting married…” he began but Sara shook her head and cut his words off.

"Let's go get married right now, Michael." She stood up and pulled him to his feet. "Me and you. I don't need all this. I don't need the dress, or some stupid flowers. Or some cake. God, I definitely don't need cake." She wrinkled her nose. "I just need you."

Michael let her pull him to his feet sluggishly. “You’d be happy getting married right now?” he looked her over. “In jeans,” he added with a wide eyes nod. “And me, with my…” he looked himself up and down and laughed. His ‘new’ Chicago Cubs shirt had been severely worn and his jeans were faded. “…best lounging outfit on?” he smirked, not believing her and rolling his eyes from behind his dark rimmed glasses.

"More than happy. . ." Sara murmured, pulling him in for another slow kiss. She glanced down to her dark blue thermal and jeans. "Come on, I'll even undo some of these buttons to make myself sexier." She undid two buttons of her shirt and smirked at him. "I think you look quite sexy, Mr. Scofield." She leaned in for another kiss. "I want to wake up in the morning and be your wife."

Michael kissed her back eagerly, gently sucking on her bottom lip before they parted. “Hmmm I’d like that,” he breathed, wrapping his arms around her waist and gently cupping her cheek in his hand. He ran his thumb over her cheekbone and their eyes danced for a while before he recaptured her lips in his and hummed contently against her smile. “We’d need a witness,” he said with a slight laugh. “And is it wrong for me to realise, this wouldn’t have been the craziest thing I have ever done?”

Sara laughed quietly, brushing her lips across her cheek. "But it would be the best thing I've ever done." She stared at him seriously, then nodded. "Go call Linc. And then make us a reservation for somewhere tonight. I'll pack us a bag, okay?" She pulled away and stared at him. "Do I have to get down on one knee. . . I want to marry you, Michael Scofield. Right now."

Michael smiled at her and shook his head lightly. "You're one of a kind, Sara," he smiled, kissing her again before backing out of the room slowly and darting down the stairs quicker than he could manage. They had already moved in together, bought a house together and had the wedding rings already paid for, engraved and just sitting in a draw waiting for the big day. There really wasn't anything holding them back. Michael picked up the phone and dialed Lincoln with a wide grin that he was sure his brother could hear when he answered the phone. "Linc, It's Mike," he beamed giddily.

"Did you just have sex?" Lincoln murmured, slightly annoyed by Michael's chipper tone. "You sound perky. What. Did you make Sara come twice, because I am really not in the mood to hear about that."

Michael let out a hearty laugh and moved through to his office where the rings were safely locked in his desk drawer. "No, I didn't," Michael said, unlocking the drawer and pulling it open. "Sara and I are getting married. Today. We want you there," Michael said, lifting the ring boxes from his drawer and opening them one by one to inspect the platinum bands. His eyes fell back into the draw for a second and he spied the green and red flash of an origami rose. With a smirk, he picked it up and twiddled it between his thumb and finger. "Are you busy?"

Lincoln paused, sitting up in his chair. "I'm about to be busy driving you to the mental institution. What are you talking about getting married today?" He rolled his eyes and stood. "It's going to take you two a year to plan this fiesta."

Michael shook his head and laughed. “No planning. Just me and Sara, you as a witness and a hotel room all night long…” Michael grinned, letting his eyes fall closed as he inhaled the phantom scent of Sara wafting through his office. “…and maybe all day tomorrow too,” he added with a smirk.

"Alright. That's enough of that!" Lincoln blinked, trying to get the image of his brother and Sara out of his head. "Sara really wants to do this? You want to do this? This unplanned, spur of the moment thing. Do you have a fever?"

“It was Sara’s idea,” Michael said, feeling his forehead and inspecting his pupils in the hall mirror. “She said she is fed up with waiting and she wants to wake up tomorrow as my wife,” Michael’s voice swelled a little with pride and he sighed dreamily. “We’ve been married since the day I walked out of prison, Linc. This is just making it official.”

"Oh, God. . ." Lincoln muttered under his breath. As much as he loved Michael and Sara, they could sure get mushy. "Alright. What time do I need to be there?"

“Like now. We are going to the justice for the peace…that’s where all of these spur of the moment marriages happen, right?” Michael smirked again. “Look, I know this is really, really unlike me, but we want you there as a support, not a judge,” Michael added more seriously. “Think you can do that?” Michael arched an eyebrow at his brother’s voice.

"Of course," Lincoln's voice softened and he looked around for his keys. "You know I'm always there for you and Sara. I love you guys more than anything." He paused. "So since she's going to be my sister, do I have to stop sleeping with her?"

Michael rolled his eyes, resigned to the fact that if Lincoln was comfortable making jokes, he was comfortable with their arrangement. “I’ll ask her,” Michael laughed. “See if we can’t work out a schedule,” he joked, grabbing his keys from the counter and watching Sara descend down their stairs in a hurry. “Oh, and Linc? Find me a hotel room,” Michael smiled and hung up. “You ready to do this?” He breathed, grabbing Sara’s hands in his and rubbing her fingers nervously.

Sara dropped the suitcase and threw her arms around Michael's neck, pulling him in close. "God, yes." She kissed him softly, pulling away slowly. "You ready for the honeymoon?"

“Baby, I was born ready,” Michael growled, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her with a squeak as he pressed his lips to hers. “The real question,” he smirked, pulling away from her gently. “Is are you?”

"I'm ready for a night of lovin'!" Sara teased slyly, picking the suitcase back up. "And I'm ready for our vows. And I'm ready for I do. And I'm ready to wear that wedding ring. And I am oh, so happy that I am going to be your wife. . ." She paused and giggled. "Your wife, Michael!"

"My wife," Michael whispered against her lips and pulled her towards the front door. "Linc is making hotel reservations and he'll meet us there," Michael said, pulling the door closed behind them and skipping down the steps to their house. "Oh Sara," Michael stopped her from getting into their truck with a smile. "I got you some flowers," he smirked, producing the origami rose from behind his back. "It's not a bouquet but you know…What says I love you more than this?"

"You're trusting Linc to make the reservations?" Sara arched her eyebrow as Michael practically drug her out towards their vehicle. She paused when he offered her the paper flower, smiling softly. "This is the best wedding gift I could have asked for."

Michael laughed at her softly and yanked his door open. “Get in,” he smiled. “Let’s go get married!”

Sara got into the car and pulled the sun visor down, checking her reflection in the small mirror. "I guess that new lingerie I bought the other day is going to get put to good use tonight!" She laughed softly, then glanced over at Michael. "I can not believe you agreed to this, Scofield."

Michael glared at her with a boyish grin and started the engine, revving the truck before turning into traffic. “Like I could have said no, Tancredi,” he laughed and then immediately rubbed his hand over his lightly stubbled jaw. “Tancredi…” he said the name again, shrugged in off quickly. “…I guess we’ll have the same pet names from now on,” he smiled at her.

"Scoooofield. . ." Sara drew the word out, smirking over at him. "Sara Scofield?" She giggled and glanced away. "Hmm. Maybe I'll keep Tancredi."

“Hey!” Michael looked over her to her with a quirked eyebrow. “What’s wrong with Scofield?” He grinned, focusing on the road again. He scrunched his nose and wiggled his glasses back up his nose. “Either way, our children will be Scofields,” he winked.

"Our children?" Sara smirked, leaning into him and squeezing his arm. "What children are these? Have I met them yet? Are they boys or girls?"

“You will do,” Michael nodded, leaning over the steering wheel and looking across the traffic. “We have boys and a girl. Just one girl,” he nodded with a smile. “And she has the prettiest red hair and dark hazel eyes…just like her mommy,” Michael breathed, taking the turn. “Obviously, our two boys look like me,” he grinned smugly. "Only, one has this really big neck...and I wonder about his paternity," he laughed.

Sara smiled softly and leaned across the seat, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "Just one girl, hmm? Does she have a name?" She softened her teasing tone and kissed him again. "You know all our babies are yours."

Michael gave her a raised grin and rolled his eyes. “They’d better be,” he mumbled lightly. “And no, they don’t have names. I always imagine we’d name them when they were born, you know? That holding them in our arms would give us the inspiration.”

"You think about our babies?" Sara asked softly. She brushed her hand through his hair and smiled. "Maybe we should work on making it down the aisle first?"

Michael pulled the truck to a stop and put it in park, leaning his head against Sara’s hand as she fingered his short, black hair and enjoying the feel of her hands on him. “Then maybe you should stop touching me,” Michael breathed, letting his eyes roll closed and his heart to race in his chest.

"You can have all the sex you want later. . ." Sara murmured. She leaned over further towards him and met his lips in a long, slow kiss. "But it's time for business."

Michael pulled her to him and crushed her lips to his, hauling her fragile frame across the seat so that she was lying across his lap. Michael stroked her hair from her face and chuckled against her lips playfully. “Business?” He smiled on a whisper. “That’s what this is to you?” He grinned down at her, reaching across the car and planting his hand firmly on the dashboard so Sara could not sit back up. His eyes flickered between hers and her lips and he teased her with the prospect of another kiss. “I’m business…” he breathed with a smirk.

"Are you?" Sara's breath caught in her throat and she leaned in, brushing her lips just barely across his. "Then we'd better get you done." She kissed him slowly, moaning against his mouth. "I love you, Michael. So much."

“I know,” Michael smiled, letting his hand fall from the dashboard to her horizontal body. “And I love you too, more then you will ever believe,” he whispered against her face, holding her hip tenderly while he kissed her again, letting his tongue slip between his lips and coax hers out to join it.

Sara smiled against Michael's mouth, letting her tongue dance with his. She pulled away slowly when a loud knock sounded on Michael's window. "Hey! Are we having a wedding or public sex?"

Michael head whipped around and Saw the frustrated glare of his older brother, hunched and peering into the car with a frown. Michael let Sara’s body go and lifted her from his lap, pulling open his door and hopping from the truck with a skip in his step. “Wedding,” he said simply with a grin, smoothing his shirt over his stomach and looking himself up and down. “How do I look?” he said with a quirk of his eyebrow towards his brother who looked less than amused his brother was getting married in jeans while he had turned up in a suit.

"You could have told me this was a casual event," Lincoln muttered, glaring as Sara smoothed down her shirt. "At least your hair isn't in a ponytail, Sara. Are you sure you two know what the hell you're doing?" Sighing he reached into his coat pocket, presenting two credit card keys.

Michael took the keys and glanced at them in his hand. He looked back to Sara and grinned playfully. “Room 7B,” he smiled and pushed the cards into his back pocket. “And yes, we know what we are doing,” Michael said, taking the rings out of his pocket and handing them to his brother. “Ready?” He said to Sara, extending his hand to her with a soft, excited smile.

"Ready." Sara nodded and took Michael's hand, returning his smile. Before he could pull her towards the stone building she stepped towards him, meeting his lips in another kiss.

"You're both drunk," Lincoln decided out loud. "You're both high?" He paused. "Oh my God. Sara's knocked up!"

Michael stopped and looked at Sara expectantly. “Are you any of the above?” he joked, smoothing his hand down her back and tucking his fingers under the hem of her top to trail across her belly. “I know I’m not pregnant,” he added with a knowing look.

Sara smirked, glancing between Lincoln and Michael. "Yup, Linc. You figured us out. We have to get married. Michael and I are having a baby and I just can not bare to be pregnant while I'm single." She fixed Michael with a look. "This wedding has absolutely nothing to do with how in love with you I am."

“Oh good,” Michael sighed sarcastically, slapping his heart to his chest with a thankful roll of his eyes. “I’d hate to have to marry you for anything less than illegitimate children,” he smirked, pulling her to him for another kiss while Lincoln rolled his eyes and growled frustrated.

"I'm in this damn penguin suit and you two are frolicking around like a bunch of damn high schoolers!" Linc spoke up. "Getting married at the same building you filed for you annulment in? Real classy, bud. You two realize you're about to get married, right? This isn't a joke."

Michael shrugged off Lincoln’s jibe about his previous marriage and he walked towards his brother. “We know,” he said for the final time. “We are serious. No joking. We want this right now,” Michael pulled Sara too him again, wrapping his arm around her waist and letting her mould into the side of his frame. “Plus, we have to. You’ve already booked the hotel,” Michael grinned and looked down at Sara. “What a fantastic wedding gift, right?”

Sara glanced up at Michael, a soft smile playing across her face. "The best wedding gift I can think of." She stopped walking and allowed Michael to open the door for her, stepping inside she turned back to Lincoln. "We're being serious here, Lincoln. We just want to be married."

“What about the big church? The big dress? Fucking tiny fluffy puppies carrying your rings around their necks?!” Lincoln jeered, holding the door open for himself. “What kind of a woman are you?” Lincoln asked with a frown.

"What is your problem?" Sara arched an eyebrow. She looked at Michael. "I'm the kind of woman who is in love with this guy. . ." She looked to Michael and smiled. "So much. So much that I can not wait another second to be his wife. Why do I need a frilly dress and some stupid flowers?"

Lincoln was taken back by her comment and he stood silent for a second, narrowing his eyes and glaring at her. He eventually turned to Michael and pointed a finger at Sara as he spoke. “You ever get bored of this one, you know where I am right?” he grinned wickedly.

Michael met his words with low whispering laughter. “I’ll never get bored,” Michael breathed, wrapping his arms around Sara from behind and pressing a kiss to her neck. “Ever,” he whispered, letting his hands move over her top daintily, barely touching her excitable skin.

Sara turned her head, meeting his mouth in a soft kiss. "Ever. . ." she repeated. Staring into his deep blue eyes, she bit her bottom lip. "Let's go get married."

Lincoln smirked and reached back into his pocket. "Here, I stopped and grabbed one of those disposable cameras. I figured you two would be too excited to remember yours."

“Thanks, Linc,” Michael beamed, following Sara as she tugged him off in one direction. “Let’s go get married,” he grinned with a giggly voice at his brother, falling into step behind Sara.

Sara led Michael and Linc up the winding, dark staircase to the third floor, where she stopped at the window to talk to a secretary. She handed Sara a few leafs of paper and Sara moved to sit down on a bench. "We all need to sign this stuff."

“That’s it?” Michael frowned. “That was easy,” he grinned, turning to Lincoln and laughing. Lincoln wound on the camera and snapped a photo of Sara and the paperwork.

“Say cheese!” he beamed playfully.

"No, that's not it," Sara gave Michael a look and arched her eyebrow. She laughed softly. "You think all we have to do is sign papers?" She carried the papers back to the window before returning to the bench. "He'll call us back into his chambers. I mean, it won't be a huge ceremony, but it'll be something. We can. . ." She tilted her head. "You know. Say stuff."

Michael took her hands in his. “You’ve got vows memorised haven’t you?” he arched an eyebrow and eyed her playfully.

"Not exactly," Sara ducked her head. "I mean, I've thought about what --"

She was interrupted by the sound of a door opening. "Michael J. Scofield and Sara Tancredi?"

Lincoln stepped forward and patted them both on the shoulder, pulling them into an embrace. “Okay kiddies, let’s do this,” he smiled, pushing them towards the open door.

Michael held Sara’s hand tightly as they walked. “When we leave this room, you’ll be Mrs. Scofield,” he whispered with a grin. “Are you ready for that?”

"Of course I'm ready," Sara whispered sincerely. She smiled softly at him, leaning in to capture a quick kiss. "Are you sure you can handle being my husband?"

Michael blew a breath through his lips. “If I can handle Lincoln being my brother, I can handle anything,” he smiled and let the door fall closed behind them. The room was silent and Michael gripped to Sara’s hand tighter.

"Michael Scofield and Sara Tancredi?" the man whose desk plate read Judge Scott Maner looked up. "Nice to see you this afternoon." He glanced up from his paperwork and studied the couple. "I went to law school with your father."

Judge Maner went on before Sara could say anything. "I wouldn't expect the daughter of Frank Tancredi to get married in this room." A small smile lit up his face. "But if I remember anything right when you were a kid, you were always a surprising one."

He looked to Michael. "Do you two have rings?"

Michael turned around and looked at Lincoln who offered him the two platinum bands. “Yes, sir,” Michael said quickly, turning back to the judge. “Right here,” he held them up with a small smile.

The judge nodded and Sara held on gently to Michael's shirt as he continued to speak. "Do you, Michael J. Scofield, take Sara Tancredi to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health. For poorer, for richer, for better or worse, forsaking all others for as long as you both shall live?"

Michael breathed a sigh and looked to Sara proudly. “I do,” he smiled, his entire body vibrating with anticipation as he said the words that meant so much.

The judge turned to Sara. "Do you, Sara Tancredi, take Michael J. Scofield to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health. For poorer, for richer, for better or worse, forsaking all others for as long as you both shall live?"

Sara took Michael's hand in hers and squeezed it tightly, barely able to contain her excitement. "I do."

Judge Maner turned back to Michael. "Have you prepared anything to say?"

Michael nodded and turned his entire body so he was facing Sara. “Sara…” Michael began nervously, looking at their joined hands and gulping. “…I know I haven’t been the best when it comes to so many things, and I am glad you saw past everything and gave me a chance. No one else, in my entire life, has given me chance to feel like the man I know I have always been,” Michael swallowed again and lifted his gaze to hers. Unable to resist her watery eyed smile, Michael reached out a hand and cupped her face in his hand tenderly. “You’re smart, you’re funny and you love me like no other. I want the chance to love you back, Sara. Every single day, for the rest of my life,” Michael paused again, gently wiping a shaky thumb across Sara’s cheekbone and dabbing away her tears. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen and I want us to make love, have children and grow old together. More than anything else in the entire world. I love you so much, Sara,” Michael’s breath hitched and he felt his own lip begin to quiver and his eyes sting from tears. “Forever…Always,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers.

Sara blinked her eyes rapidly, determined not to lose it. "Michael, I . . . I had given up on happiness until you came along. I had given up on ever finding anyone to ever love. But then you taught me that life and love don't always come in the exact packages you think they're going to." She cleared her throat and smiled softly at him. "You are the most amazing man I've ever met, Michael. The only man I have ever wanted to spend my life with. I will love you forever for always. . ." She took his hand again, squeezing even tighter. "I don't regret a single second, and I never, ever will." She bit her bottom lip, reaching into her back pocket to remove her origami rose. "You and me, Michael. It's real."

“Oh, Sara…” Michael breathed, blinking and letting a hot tear roll from his eyelids down his face and off his chin.

Sara gently brushed Michael's tears away, and the judge leaned forward. "The rings?"

Michael took Sara’s smaller, identical band and slipped it onto her finger before gripping it in his hand and looking back up at her with a quivering smile. “Forever.”

Sara took Michael's ring and gently slipped it on his finger. "Always."

Judge Maner leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "By the power invested in me by the state of Illinois, and the city of Chicago. . . I now pronounce you husband and wife." He paused, a small smile on his face. "You can kiss her now if you want to, Mr. Scofield."

With a wicked smile, Michael stepped forward and closed the gap between them. He cupped Sara’s face in both his hands and pressed his lip to hers hungrily, grinning against her smile when Lincoln took a photograph and the flash from the camera splashed against their faces.

Sara kept her arms wrapped around Michael's waist as they quietly exited the judge's chambers. She hadn't expected to feel any differently after it was documented on paper that she and Michael were married, but she did. She couldn't stop smiling, and she couldn't stop the tears that were running down her face. She pressed a kiss to Michael's neck. "So you want to make love to me, hmm?"

“Mmm, you bet,” Michael growled, pressing his lips to hers and pulling her against him tighter.

“Good God you two!” Lincoln exclaimed from behind them. “Please!” He rolled his eyes and rushed ahead of them. “You know, I am so glad you drove yourselves here,” he nodded and pushed the glass door of the courthouse open before stepping into the sunshine.

Sara led Michael slowly out through the door, ignoring Lincoln's teasing. She kissed Michael again, "Alright, Mr. Scofield. Let's go have ourselves a honeymoon." She turned back to Lincoln, smiling brightly. "You know you're happy for us."

Lincoln grinned boyishly. "Yeah, I am," He shrugged playfully. "Congrats you two," he said, pulling them both into his massive bulk to another hug. "Do I get to kiss the bride?" he smirked at Michael who eyed him suspiciously.

Michael looked at Sara and shook his head with a sigh. "Sure, why not," he rolled his eyes. Lincoln grinned and with an audible hum, kissed Sara square on the lips in the parking lot.

Sara laughed loudly as she wiggled from Lincoln's embrace. Wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, she turned in a circle, smiling at both of her boys. "Well, Lincoln Burrows. If I had known you kissed like that, I might have married you instead!"

Lincoln quirked an eyebrow at her and smiled. “I did tell you,” he winked. He turned to Michael and extended his hand, taking Michael’s in a powerful grip and shaking it hard. “Go make love to your wife,” he smiled, patting him on the shoulder.

“I plan to,” Michael whispered with a grin, turning to see Sara jumping into their truck. “Hopefully, we’ll make it to the hotel,” he grinned wickedly. Lincoln pushed him weakly and turned to walk from them, his fingers held in his ears and his deep voice roaring across the parking lot as he sang. Michael jogged to the truck and jumped in, pulling the door shut behind him. “You ready for the first and best married sex ever?” Michael grinned, squeezing the steering wheel.

Sara smirked, leaning against her door. She grinned coyly. She was going to have to keep her distance if they were going to make it up to the hotel room. "Oh, baby, I'm going to take you for a ride you'll never forget!" She paused, watching him drive for a moment. "Michael, we're married."

Michael looked over to her tiny figure slumped against the passenger door. “I’m sorry…” he smirked, focusing back to the road. “…You lost me at ‘ride’,” he laughed.

"Drive faster," Sara instructed, smiling softly at him. "I said. . . we're married. I'm your wife and you are my husband."

Michael looked down at the speedometer and accelerated a little faster. “I know,” he breathed, flashing her a smile. “Isn’t it a fantastic feeling? It’s going to make sex just so much hotter,” Michael grinned, letting a hand drop from the wheel to trail around the inside of Sara’s thigh.

"But our sex is already so hot. . ." Sara took his hand in hers and moved it up higher, brushing his finger tips gently over where she could already feel herself wet inside her tiny panties. "Are we almost there?"

Michael gulped hard and pressed his fingers against the harsh fabric of her jeans. “We’d better be,” he muttered, yanking the wheel around with one hand and letting the truck screech to a stop in a parking space. Michael turned to her in his seat and practically dived on her, seizing her mouth for a hungry kiss and letting his hand rub harder in between her thighs. Sara moaned against his lips and just when she arched her back off the seat, he pulled his hand away with a growl, yanking open his door and jumping out. He ran around the front of the truck, the heat from the engine radiating onto his skin, and he pulled Sara’s door open. “Mrs. Scofield,” he paused, bowing his head and offering her his hand.

"That's my name. . ." Sara whispered sliding out of the truck. She took his hand and allowed him to guide her towards the hotel. In a slightly uncharacteristic move she placed her hands on his shoulders, hopping up onto his back. She lavished kisses upon his neck all the way to the elevator. When the doors opened, she slid slowly off of him.

Michael body itched to touch her again, anywhere, with anything. His lips, his hands, even just brushing her skin with his was enough for him. He shuffled closer to her so their bare arms were touching and they waited for the doors to close. Michael pointed to the doorman who had glared at him on the day he was released and wiggled his ring finger at him. “We’re married!” he shouted with a laugh as the doors closed. He turned to Sara and let a low rumble escape his chest. “We’re married,” he repeated, barging her body into the side of the elevator and devouring her mouth with his.

"We're married. . ." Sara mumbled against his lips, pulling his body even closer to hers. She kissed him passionately until she heard the ding of the elevator. Giggling, she led him off and towards their room, continuing to kiss him. "Call me Mrs. Scofield again."

Michael smirked and stalked her backwards like a big cat stalking its prey. “Mrs. Scofield,” he growled, stopping her body against the white door of room 7B and dipping his head to suck on her neck. “Mrs. Scofield,” he whispered against her skin, grinding his arousal into hers and panting.

Sara was relieved no one was out in the hall to watch them. Letting out a quiet moan she tilted her head back, closing her eyes as he lavished attention on her neck. She felt like she was on fire and she reached into his back pocket, drawing his body closer to her and pulling out one of the keys. "You know the tradition, babe. You have to. . ." She paused and let out another moan. "Carry me over the threshold."

Michael lifted his head to look at her, taking the key from her hand and swiping it through the swipe gate on the doorframe. The door clicked and Michael kicked it open further. “Carry you?” Michael said slowly before bending down and hooking his arms behind Sara’s legs and hoisting her over his shoulder. “Like this?” he grunted, frozen at the edge of the door. Sara squealed with laughter and tugged at his shirt, trying to hold herself up while he grinned. Finally, Michael let her fall forward and scooped her into his arms. “Or like this?” he breathed, pressing his smile to hers again.

"Like this. Just like this. . ." Sara smiled softly against his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. She deepened the kiss as he kicked the door shut and carried her further into the room. "Mmm, you asked me to marry you in this place."

"I did," Michael confirmed, dropping Sara to the bed where she bounced with a giggle. He reached behind his head and pulled his shirt over his body with a gruff sigh and then crawled up over the bed, hovering on all fours above Sara's body. "Right here," he smirked, dipping his head to kiss her again.

Sara met his lips in a sweet slow kiss. She ran her hands gently up his back, ghosting the tips of her fingers across his spine. She moved them back down, tracing the lines of his tattoo. "I'm going to make you the happiest man ever, Michael Scofield."

“I don’t doubt that,” Michael smiled, pulling away from her and resting back on his heels. “Now…” he hummed to himself with a wry twisted smile. “…Something’s wrong here,” he said, tapping his finger to his temple and examining Sara’s figure. “Of course!” He grinned, leaning forward and pulling her top off over her head. “You have too many clothes on,” he whispered into her ear as he began planting kisses down her neck, following his hands that were already busy unclipping her bra.

Sara sat up a little, tilting her head to the side and granting him easier access to her skin and allowing him to easily slip her bra off. It landed on the floor somewhere near his t-shirt. Running her hands down his chest to his jeans button, she whispered, "This is the best honeymoon ever."

Michael laughed a little against her skin, his rumbling laughter echoing through to her skin. “You planning on having another?” he smiled, kissing under her jaw and down the valley of her breasts. His hand kneaded the sides of her bosom, gently pushing them together and capturing a pink, dusty nipple in his hot, wet mouth.

Sara let out a hiss when she felt his mouth on her. She lost all coherence for a moment as she melted into the sheets then muttered, "Italy." She took in a deep breath. "Someday I want us to go to Italy."

“Italy?” Michael mumbled, gently sucking on her skin and closing his eyes as he savoured the taste on his tongue. “What’s in Italy?” he breathed, releasing her nipple and then blowing hard on the wet skin, teasing it into a further state of hardness. He grinned wickedly as she moaned, pressing his thumb to the area and kissing across her mounds to the opposite one.

"Oh, yeah, baby. . ." Sara groaned, closing her eyes. She forgot what they were talking about for a moment as she finally got his jeans unbuttoned. Pushing them down over his hips she whispered, "A nice, fancy hotel with our name on it? You and me and lots of Italian sex."

“Hotel?” Michael scoffed in a husky voice, scraping his teeth over her rosy skin gently. “A hotel is not good enough for you,” he breathed, licking her skin and kicking his jeans off. Michael began kissing down her body, dipping his tongue into her belly button and humming with content when he tasted her slightly salty skin. “I’ll get you a private villa…” he breathed. “…overlooking the beach…” he growled, unbuttoning her jeans and kissing the skin around her waistline. “…No, I’ll get you your own beach, baby.”

Sara groaned, moving on the bed underneath him. "God, Michael. . ." She loved how his mouth felt on her. She loved the way his voice dropped to the raspy, husky tone when he was turned on. "This right here is perfect. You and me. That's all I need." She arched her back slightly, encouraging his mouth lower.

“Easy, tiger,” Michael chuckled in a sexy rasp against her skin. He tucked his fingers into the elastic of her panties and pulled them with her jeans, tugging them down her legs slowly, kissing her skin as he went. He smoothed his hands over her feet, gently rubbing her soft skin in his hands and examining the goose bumps that prickled up her legs with a smile. He began kissing back up her legs, pressing his lips to her skin softly and letting them linger against it torturously. “I’m going to savour every single inch of your body,” he breathed.

"You realize what you do to me, right?" Sara moaned, loving the feel of his mouth on her skin. It didn't get any better than this. "How good you make me feel? How hot you make me?" She paused, letting out another moan. "Mmm, I am going to return the favor."

Michael smirked against the inside of her knee, kissing the joint as he rolled it in his hands. “Promise?” he whispered, his voice deep and velvety.

"Oh, yeah. . ." Sara murmured, biting onto her bottom lip. She lifted her head and stared down at him. She was still feeling giddy that they were married. "I'll return the favor and then some."

Michael smoothed his giant hands up Sara's thighs and rested them to her hips, his warmth creating heat to rise under her skin. He moved his body further up the bed and flashed her a glance before he gently inhaled the scent of her arousal seeping from her core. “My God, Sara…” he whimpered, pressing his face to the inside of her thigh and gently scratching the skin, reddening it with his stubble. “…You smell so good,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her thigh and teasing her core with his breath.

Sara shifted under him, moaning as his stubble scratched across her thigh. "Michael. . ." She swallowed hard and leaned up a little, running her fingers through his short hair. "I love you. . . I want you so badly. So badly." She leaned back onto the bed. "Can you tell?"

Michael let a smile grace his face and he held Sara’s hips steady while he pressed his lips to her folds, licking his lips and tasting her nectar on his tongue. He let out an audible hum of enjoyment, letting his eyes roll closed as he did so. “Yeah, baby…I can tell,” he growled, kissing her folds again as he parted them tenderly with his thumb.

Sara let out a quiet hum of enjoyment. A quick moan of anticipation followed as she felt his skilled mouth exactly where she wanted it. She brought a hand up, brushing it across her own forehead and squirming underneath him. "Oh yeah, Michael. . . you know what I like."

Michael just smiled, taking his time to taste her at his own leisure while she writhed beneath him. His lips closed over her clitoris, sucking gently in short bursts while his tongue licked up the outside of her opening hungrily. “Mmm…” he moaned against her, dipping his tongue into her core and drinking out her juices. “…You taste so good.”

"You feel so good. . ." Sara whimpered, clutching onto the sheets and letting out a moan. He kept up his slow pace, taking his time, continuing to drive her crazy. "I can't wait to taste you. God, baby. And I'm going to bring you to the edge and then I'm going to ride you and you're going to come inside me."

Michael let out a mournful sigh, his erection straining in his thin cotton boxers. For a second he had to stop and restrain himself from coming in his underwear at her words. Michael let out a small laugh against her center, dipping his finger inside before withdrawing from her slowly. “You can’t say that,” he smirked firmly, shaking his head. “I’d hate to have to fuck you right now.”

Sara moaned as he slowly pressed his finger into her. "Oh, Michael. . . you keep doing this the way you're doing it and I'm going come faster than you can say. . ." She paused. "Orgasm."

“Oh, baby…” Michael moaned, placing a second finger into her and increasing his pace. Michael panted against her skin, tilting his mouth towards her again and licking at the juices that came from her body. “…Say that again,” he breathed, dipping his tongue into her.

"Orgasm?" Sara murmured, pressing her head back into the bed. "You like to hear that you're going to make me come?" She clutched harder onto the sheets. "Mmm, good baby, because that's exactly what you're going to make me do."

Michael lifted his head to look at her when he pulled his fingers from her and sucked on them eagerly. He caught her heavy lidded gaze and smiled to himself. “Come for me…” Michael breathed on a husky growl. “…come fast, Sara. Let me taste you,” he smiled excitedly, delving his tongue into her core and lapping at the sides of her cervix quickly.

Sara couldn't fight her pending climax any longer. She let out a long moan, followed by the quiet whimper of his name as she came long and hard. "Oh yeah, Michael, oh yeah, Michael. . ."

Michael kept his tongue working, pulling her hips to his face while she came, riding out her orgasm on his tongue. Her body shuddered against him and he finally released her and slid up her body while she panted. “You taste so divine,” Michael whispered against her face, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Taste yourself,” Michael told her firmly, licking her lips to encourage her tongue to meet his.

Sara met Michael's lips in a heated kiss and she pulled him as close as she could get him to her. Their tongues danced together, Sara exploring every inch of Michael's mouth before she had to break away for air. She pressed her forehead to his. "How did you get so good at that?"

“I’m good?” Michael smirked modestly.

"Good doesn't cover it. . ." Sara murmured, shaking her head. She was still reeling from her orgasm. "You are something better than good. You are amazing, you are spectacular. You are the only man in the world who would ever be able to do that to me."

Michael smiled down at her, smoothing his hands down her naked body and lacing his hand in hers, letting his wedding band cool her hot skin. “You’ve never come like that before, have you?” Michael smiled widely, brushing her hair from her slightly damp brow.

"No. . ." Sara shook her head and smiled softly at him. She found his hand and laced their fingers together. "That was definitely something new."

Michael watched their hands lovingly and then slid his hands down to her wrists, gripping gently and pushing it into the mattress. He pushed his body into hers and held her down, seizing her lips in another kiss. “You welcome,” he smirked, tasting her mouth again in a hungry kiss.

Sara moaned against his mouth, devouring his lips in another kiss. "God, you taste so good. . ." She pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth. "I think it's time for me to show you some loving, Scofield."

Michael rolled off of her and laid flat against the bed sheets, resting his head in his hands. “I love the way you say our name,” he growled playfully.

"Our name," Sara sang softly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before moving down his body. She kissed along his chest. She stopped at the waistband of his boxers, sliding one finger inside. "What are these doing still on?"

Michael just smiled, letting her fumble with his boxers. He lifted his hips and let Sara slide them over his behind and off his legs. “Hey, come here…” Michael nodded over his shoulder and encouraged Sara to kneel beside him further up his body. He reached out a hand and smoothed it down her back, cupping her behind and tickling her thigh playfully. “…I want to be able to touch you. Feel you. Excite you,” Michael growled his last words, smoothing his fingers back over her damp sex with a smirk.

"Oh, baby, I am already excited all over again. . . " Sara brushed her lips across his once more before kissing a slow pattern down his chest. She kissed the inside of his thigh, then ran her tongue over his length. "Mmm. You're ready for me, aren't you?"

Michael nodded quickly and licked his lips. “Oh yeah, baby,” Michael grinned, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"And you taste so good. . ." Sara took him in her mouth again, letting out a long moan, letting him know exactly how much she enjoyed him in her mouth. She added her hand, stroking him quickly as she bobbed her head up and down.

“Sara…” Michael hissed, slamming his head into the comforter and gritting his teeth. “You’re so hot…and wet…” he groaned.

Sara continued her attention on him for several more moments then pulled away, continuing to stroke him with her hand. He slid easily in and out. "Oh, yeah? It's because you're so hot."

“Tell me…” he moaned, biting his lip. “…tell me what you are going to do to me…”

“Oh Scofield,” Sara cooed, her voice laced with a passion that hung thick in the air. “You have no idea.”


	8. Chapter 8

Michael flopped back onto the couch and flicked the TV on with the remote. Having just finished tidying the magazines they kept under their table, to his liking, he was reclining for a much needed rest. Being back at work was tough, and it seemed the only question he ever got asked was 'why?'. He rested his feet on the table and pulled his tie so it hung loose about his neck. and let his eyes fall closed as he let out a sigh. The noise of rustling paper aroused his senses and he peeled an eye open to see Sara rearranging the magazines. "What are you doing?" he asked with a frown.

"You put them in the wrong order," Sara murmured, shuffling through the magazines. She held one up. "I read this. Why is it on top?" She shook her head and grabbed her Cosmo. "I just got this one in the mail yesterday, I haven't even looked at it. It doesn't go on the bottom."

Michael sat forward and pulled his tired legs from the coffee table and sat forward. Sara's order of things was wrong. The colours were wrong, they were not alphabetized and despite having been opened yesterday, the dog ears of her beloved Cosmo suggested she had read it. "Don't," Michael snapped in a low voice, snatching the magazine from her and putting it back to where he had it originally. "You have read that one," he insisted not looking at her.

"What's it matter if I've read it? I want it on top!" Sara paused, then reached to snatch it back. Before she did though, she thought better of it. Leaning forward she whispered, "Did something happen at work?"

“It’s just…” Michael paused with a hefty sigh. “…I’m not taken seriously anymore. I am not Michael Scofield, engineer anymore. I am Michael Scofield, that guy who broke out of prison. And it’s frustrating.” Michael slapped the magazine back down onto the table and flopped back into the cushions, covering his face with his hands.

Sara moved to the couch, sitting down next to him and putting her hand on his arm. "You're a lot more than that now, Michael." She leaned into him. "You're Michael Scofield, my best friend. You're Michael Scofield, husband to the sexiest doctor who can't prescribe medicine in Chicago." She smirked, trying to get him to laugh. "You're my Michael Scofield."

"Maybe that's enough for you," he said sadly, shaking off her touch and pushing himself to his feet. He rubbed his hands together and fiddled with the platinum of his wedding band, his fingers trailing over the inscription. His gaze fell to his hands and a shadow of doubt invaded his thoughts. "Is it enough for you?"

"Of course it's enough for me, Michael," Sara whispered. "How can you even ask me that?" She took his hand in hers, kissing his wedding band. She was quiet for a minute, then look at him. "Is it enough for you?"

Michael avoided her gaze, staring down at their connected hands while his mind ticked over furiously. He didn't respond, he didn't know how too. Yes, it was enough for him, in every single way, but at the back of his overactive imagination, Michael couldn't help but wonder why Sara had even bothered with him after everything he had done for her. His eyebrows twitched with though, knitting together as he tried to fight the feelings he had associated with his doubt.

Sara dropped her hands and pulled away. She stood smoothing her hands over her jeans. "It's not enough for you?" She shook her head, moving to walk out of the room. "After everything, I'm not enough for you."

Michael lunged after her and grabbed her elbow. “That’s not it,” he said firmly, turning her to face him.

"Really?" Sara turned to face him. Seeing the look on his face, she shook her head and softened. Reaching for his hand, she whispered, "Michael, sometimes I think you regret all this. That you regret me."

Michael lifted her hand to his face and crushed it to his cheek. "No," he said simply, the word catching in his throat. "I'll never regret you, or us..." he paused, taking a deep, mournful breath. "I regret how we got here...what i did to you," he admitted with a spiteful snip to his words, directed at himself. The voices in his head laughed and taunted him, and Michael's self worth hit an all time low. He let his hand slip from Sara's and brushed past her towards the front door. "I don't deserve you," he whispered against the wooden obstruction.

"What are you talking about, Michael?" Sara whispered, following him. She pressed her hand to his back, rubbing gently. "I love you. I love you like I've never loved anyone else, or could love anyone else. You're all I could ever want."

Michael pressed his forehead to the door at her words that he wanted desperately to embrace but felt he couldn't. "Sara..." he began, the three little words sticking to his throat and refusing to come out. He pulled the door open and stepped from her touch. "...don't wait up."

"Michael," Sara stepped after him, feeling the panic rise within her. "Where are you going?"

Michael closed his eyes and didn't look around when she stepped out after him. He shoved his hands in his pockets and strode off. "I have to think," he called back gently. "I'm sorry," he whispered, the words barely audible to himself let alone Sara.

Sara stared after him for a moment, then walked back inside. She tried to clean, but worried that anything she rearranged would set Michael off upon his return. Finally, she gave up and went up to their bedroom, trying to focus on a book.

"Whiskey. Off the rocks," Michael grumbled to the overweight barmen as he piled his tired body onto a bar stool and hunched himself over the bar. The barmen gave him his drink and Michael threw a rubbery green bill at him before throwing his head back and letting the liquid burn his throat. His gaze caught a frail older man sitting next to him staring intently at Michael with a wry smile. Michael slammed his glass back on the bar and turned to the man with a frown. "Can I help you?"

The older man pushed his whiskey glass away from him and glanced over at Michael. He tapped his fingers on the counter for a moment, then gave him a knowing nod. "Lady problems?"

Michael took a huge breath and nodded gently. "Is it that obvious?" he said sadly, motioning for another drink.

"We've all been there, son," the other man nodded, softening his voice. "Trust me, drinking don't help. It'll only serve to put you in the dog house further."

Michael's drink arrived and he rolled the glass around on the bar. The old man's voice was weathered and old, but his words were to the point. Michael lifted his glass half to his lips and then paused, thinking better of it. He let the glass thud back on the grimy bar and he sighed again, pushing his glass away from him. "I love her," Michael said suddenly. "I really do love her. I just...I have this feeling inside..." he pressed his hand to his heart and continued. "...what if..." he paused again, staring back to his drink and fingering the edge of the glass. He let out a weak laugh and knocked back the whiskey quickly. "The mind, is very cruel," he said as the liquid pooled in his empty stomach.

"That, it is," the man agreed softly. He glanced over to Michael again. "But if you love her, then why worry about any what ifs? Does she love you?" He paused. "Seeing as your wearing a wedding band, I'm going to say yes."

Michael looked to his hand, catching the glint of the silvery band in the dull light of the bar. He lifted it to his face and closed his fist on the inscription, keeping it hidden from view. When they were married, Sara and Michael had their single worded vows etched onto their rings. On Sara's, Michael had 'forever' inscribed, and on his, it said 'always'. The words echoed in Michael's head and all he could hear was Sara's soft, caring voice saying them over and over. "Yes," Michael said turning to the old man. "But..." his voice trailed off.

The old man arched an eyebrow. "But what, son? Nothing ever surpasses love."

Michael considered the man's words. As far-fetched as they sounded, they were right. Nothing, in all the time Michael had known Sara, had succeeded in its quest to come between them. Nothing. Michael gave the man a small smile and extended his hand to him. "Michael," he introduced himself formally. "Thank you...?" he pried for the man's name.

"Sam." The man replied with a nod. "Why don't you get on home and apologize to your lady. Take her some flowers."

"Thanks Sam," Michael smiled again, taking the man's hand, squeezing tightly and shaking it. He pushed himself from the bar stool and turned to leave the bar, hands in pockets and mind racing with how he could make everything right.

Sara sat in bed, reading a book. Or trying. She had sat and looked at the same three pages since Michael had left. And she didn't know what any of them had said. Sighing, she got out of bed and dialled Michael's cell phone. Straight to voice mail. Giving up, she moved into the bathroom to wash her face and change into pyjamas.

Michael stepped from the bar and the cool air hit him and took his breath. He wasn't drunk, but he was light headed. He had drunk two whiskeys at break neck speed and he almost felt ashamed to go home and face Sara. He took his cell phone from his pocket, turned it on and dialled home. There was no answer and their answer machine kicked it after five rings. After the beep, Michael sighed heavily and began walking towards their house. "Sara, it's me..." he didn't know why he started with that, who else would call her so late? "...Look, i know you probably don't want to talk to me right now, and I’ll understand if when i get home you don't want me in our bed tonight..." his breath caught in his throat. "...I'll sleep on the couch." He rounded the corner and there was still no sign of Sara picking up the phone, even though Michael imagined her listening to his words from right next to the black box.

Sara tugged one of Michael's t-shirts over head and hurried back into the bedroom. She crawled over the bed, and grabbed for their cordless phone. Clicking it on, she breathed heavily into the phone. "I was washing my face."

Michael smiled into his cell as he rounded a corner and heard her voice. "Sara..." he breathed, relieved she hadn't been ignoring him. "...I'm sorry," he sad quietly.

Sara relaxed onto the bed, and let out a sigh, just relieved that he was alright. And that he sounded sober. "Come home, Michael."

“Okay,” he whispered, relieved. “Hey,” he added suddenly, the drunkenness coming out in him. “Do you want flowers?” he quirked an eyebrow at her. “Sam said you’d want flowers,” he said lazily as the fresh air reacted hilariously with his half drunk, half sober state.

Maybe he wasn't sober. "Who's Sam?" She half-wondered if Sam was a female, then pushed the thought away. "And you know how I feel about flowers."

"Right," he nodded to himself as he strode along the sidewalk. "Flowers equals evil. Got it," he let out a small laugh before going silent. "Sam was a guy by the way, i know what you were thinking," he added.

"You wouldn't cheat on me," Sara murmured, rubbing her forehead. "Are you okay? How much did you have to drink?"

Michael stopped under a street lamp, panting to catch his breath when he realised he didn’t really know which way home was. He let his free hand fall on to the top of his head while he looked for a landmark he recognised. “Uh…” he stuttered, looking around with a frown. “…two…maybe three whiskeys,” he shrugged, breaking into a determined walk when he regained his bearings.

"Are you walking?" Sara's voice rose. She stood, looking around the bedroom for where she dropped her purse. "I'll come get you."

Michael shook his head and rounded another corner. “No, you stay in the warm. I need to walk this off,” he said firmly. “And I’m sure, before you ask,” he smiled.

Sara laughed softly and traced the pattern on the comforter. She fell quiet, then whispered, "Michael, what happened at work today?"

Michael sighed heavily and let his eyes fall closed. “If I tell you, you have to promise me you won’t think any less of me, or be scared of me, okay?” he said, stopping and resting his body against the nearest wall. “Promise me, Sara.”

"Michael, why would I be scared of you?" Sara asked. She glanced at the clock and closed her eyes. "Baby, how far away are you? Let me come get you."

“Sara, promise me,” he repeated his words urgently. “Please…”

"Michael. . ." Sara's voice trailed off and she shook her head. "I promise."

“One of the guys at work said he saw your picture in the paper after you got arrested after…” his words trailed off and he sighed. “…he said some things in the locker room, some horrible things…about us,” he added darkly, his voice changing with anger. “So I hit the bastard. Sara, I broke the guys god damn nose,” he laughed lightly. “And they were right, I’m nothing but a dirty con,” he spat their words out.

"Michael." Sara closed her eyes and sighed. Picking up her keys, she left the bedroom and walked downstairs. "Tell me where you are."

Wanting her more than anything, Michael lifted his head and read her the street name he was on. He slumped down the wall and rested his head against the brickwork of the wall behind him. "I'm a dirty con, Sara. You deserve more," he said with a wavering voice and hung up. Switching his phone off, he put it back in his pocket, knowing she would find him.

Sara cursed under her breath and dropped the phone to the stairs, leaving the house. She started her car, and grabbed her phone, dialling Michael's cell. It was off. Cursing again, she sped the whole way, arriving at her destination in less than ten minutes.

"I think...I think fresh air does something to the alcohol when you leave the bar," Michael said slowly, swaying sideways against the wall and not looking up to her.

"Michael, you had what, three drinks? You're not drunk," Sara shook her head. "Now take a couple deep breaths, and let's go home."

"Nope..." Michael said like a child, shaking his head and sighing. "You go home, I’ll live on the streets with the other dirty cons," he gulped, rubbing one hand in the other and fiddling with his wedding band. He twisted it gently before pulling it from his finger and offering it to her. "Here...take this," he said through gritted teeth as he tried to fight back tears.

Sara felt a surge of anger swell inside her when he slipped his ring off. She stared at it in disdain for a moment before stepping closer to him. "What the hell do you think you're doing!"

Michael lifted his head and frowned at her. “You don’t want it? Great. Fucking prison ruined my life!” Michael clenched his fist and smashed it into the sidewalk beside his leg.

Panic surged through Michael's body as she walked away from him and he scrambled after her, rushing into the side of the car. The window was open and he leant through it slightly. "Sara, I’m sorry, look..." he slipped his ring back onto his hand while he panted for sudden needed breath. "...I’m sorry," he repeated, looking at her with pleading eyes. "I'll never take it off again. Ever."

Sara kept her eyes forward. She turned the ignition. "Get in the car, Michael."

Michael nodded and ran around the front of the car. Probably, on reflection, not a very good idea, considering how angry he had made Sara. He pulled the door open and hopped into the truck, slamming it behind him as the engine roared to life and Sara pulled away from the curb. He didn't know what to say, or what to do. He had never felt so...sober-drunk. He was sober-drunk. The point at which you are neither anymore and you are an emotional wreck that can't think clearly and will regret your every action in the morning.

Sara kept silent on the rest of the ride home. She pulled into the driveway, and turned the car off. Grabbing her purse, she walked to the front door and unlocked it, not glancing back towards Michael.

Michael hopped from the car, letting the door close quietly behind him when he entered the house. Sara head to the kitchen and he headed to the lounge, taking his shoes off and resting them under the coffee table. H grabbed a cushion, applied it to the arm of the couch and swung his legs up onto the other end. He turned a little, pulling the blanket from the back of the couch and letting it fall over his body.

Sara banged around in the kitchen for a few minutes. She didn't want anything, just enjoyed the sound of banging. After a few minutes, her anger got the best of her and she walked into the lounge. Pointing at Michael, she seethed through clenched teeth, "Do not ever, ever, ever treat me like that again!"

Michael didn't look up at her as he pulled the blanket up around his neck, trying to hide from her anger. "Okay," he agreed pathetically. "I'm sorry."

She stayed hovering over him and crossed her arms. "What'd they say about me? What'd they say about us?"

“It doesn’t matter,” Michael mumbled, the air of anger rising up in his voice again. “It’s done. He got the message,” he spat.

Sara's voice raised with each word she spoke. "What did he say. About me."

Michael flipped the blanket back and looked up at her with a scowl. “I said. It’s done,” he droned darkly.

"Michael!" Sara shouted. "I don't understand you. You want to fix things and then you just. . ."

“…Does he name Jessie Fera mean anything to you?” Michael snapped. “No?” he said tilting his head. “Maybe you knew him as The Fox. You know, too quick and sly to get caught with his drugs he passed off onto the girls who slept with him!” Michael’s voice rose with every word and he bit out the words so spitefully. His anger was all based towards the guy, not Sara, but he couldn’t distinguish a difference in his words.

Sara's eyes immediately shot to the carpet, her cheeks reddening. Finally, she looked up at Michael. Her past was her past, and there was nothing that could be done about it. "I don't remember many names. I was usually under the influence when I fucked them. But yes. I remember him."

Michael’s chest shook with nervous laughter. “Fucked them?” he breathed, standing and stepping away from her sideways. “Fucked. Them.” He repeated the two words on a whisper and gasped for breath like they were daggers in his heart.

"I'm not proud," Sara murmured, glancing down again. Her face got hot and she felt sick to her stomach. Her night with him came back, and she felt like she was going to throw up. Swallowing hard she shook her head, "I remember him. . . I remember him because. . ."

Michael whipped his head around to face her. "Because what, Sara?" he barked through a clenched jaw. "Because, what!" he roared, shaking with fury.

"Because I wasn't high!" Sara's voice rang out, echoing through their foyer. She looked away from him. "Because I told him to stop, and he didn't! Because he held me down. Because I couldn't stop crying and he laughed the entire time." She closed her eyes tightly. It was the first time she'd ever said it out loud.

Something inside Michael's chest cracked and his heart splintered into a million pieces. He lost the angry red glow of his cheeks and his entire body relaxed. His frame softened and his shoulders dropped as he tilted his head at her revelation. Of all the things Sara could have said, Michael never wanted to ever hear those ones leave her mouth. "Oh baby," Michael panted, stepping towards her.

Sara pressed one hand to her mouth and shut her eyes. She took a step away from him, and held her hand up, blocking him and shaking her head. "Don't. Just. . . please." For a second she thought was choking, then it felt like she couldn't breath. A tiny sob escaped her, and her body shook slightly.

Ignoring her weak pleas, Michael closed the gap between them fully and pulled her into his embrace roughly. He crushed her to his chest and sighed into her hair while he smoothed his hands over her back, stroking he tears from her. "Shhh..." he soothed. He didn't know what else to say so he just held her to him and let her sob her heart out into the fabric of his shirt.

Sara only let herself cry against Michael for a moment before pulling away. She stepped away from him, and shook her head. She was crying so hard, she wasn't even sure he would be able to understand her. "It was my own fault. Really. That's who I was. It's my own fault. I was that girl, and when I tried not to be. . ." Sara shook her head. "For so long after I got sober, I just thought. . . what's it matter? I can never be in a relationship. No one would want. . ." She choked on a sob. "Sometimes still, in the shower, I think what's the point. What's the point because I'll never be. . . clean." She cleared her throat. "Now you know how disgusting I really am."

"Sara, look at me..." Michael grabbed her face in his hands and shook it slightly until her hazel orbs met his. "Look at me..." he repeated firmly until he knew she was looking at him. "You don't get to say that. It was never, and will never, be your fault, you hear me?" He raised his eyebrows at her and nodded for an answer. "Your not disgusting," he shook his head slowly. "Your not to blame for this," he added, stroking his thumbs over her cheeks. "You're right...you was that girl..." he nodded at her before shaking his head. "...but not anymore," he whispered.

"It's just when you go on about how your an ex-con, Michael. . ." Sara's sobs were slowly dwindling, and she sniffed loudly. "That's not who you are, Michael. Everything you did you had a good reason for. . . but me." She shrugged lamely. "God, how can you still look at me like that when you know what I was?"

Michael sighed lovingly at her. "Because what you were doesn't matter to me..." Michael offered her a weak smiled and tucked a strand of her rustic locks from her face. He cupped her cheek in his hand and tilted her face back up so she looked at him again. "...what you are now...who you are now, that's all i see when i look at you, Sara."

Sara wiped at her face with the short sleeve of the t-shirt she was wearing. "I, uh, I've never told anyone before."

Michael smiled and wrapped an arm around her to pull her against his chest again. "How does it feel to say out loud?" he whispered, pressing his lips to the top of her head.

Sara felt her tears welling up inside her again. She pressed her face into Michael's chest and tried to hold back a sob. "Real."

“But a little bit further into the past, right?” he breathed, holding her and never wanting to let it ever happen again.

She nodded again, then pulled away, wiping her eyes. "So you ah. . . you work with him?"

"God know!"" Michael shook his head. "If I did, he'd be dead by now," he said darkly. "It's his brother, and i don't think he has any idea what his brother did either. He doesn't seem the kind of guy, however jealous of me he is, to use something like that against someone." He smiled a little and moved to sit back down on the couch, pulling her with him and wrapping the blanket around both of them.

Sara snuggled into Michael, letting his body warm hers. "I'm sorry he said anything to you at all," Sara whispered. She took his hand, and idly traced across all the lines on his palm. "I know things are hard for you already. . ."

Michael shook his head and tightened his grip on her hand. "I deserve for things to be hard. I don't expect them to be easy after what i did," he smiled weakly. "You don't deserve to be abused with no chance to defend yourself. That's why I am here," Michael grinned.

"You shouldn't hit people, Michael," Sara murmured. "You'll just cause more problems for yourself, and that's the last thing you need." She sighed quietly. "And whatever he said about me was true."

“Regardless of if it’s true or not, he didn’t need to say it. I know I was wrong, and I apologized to the guy afterwards. We are good, but I promise, I’ll never hit anyone again.” Michael kissed her forehead sweetly, letting his lips linger on her skin.

"Thank you," Sara murmured, running her hand slowly over his chest. She sighed and closed her eyes, taking in his scent. "I love how you smell."

Michael lifted his free arm to his nose and inhaled deeply. "Smoke..." he sniffed again. "...whiskey...perfume, which i swear is from a woman on the other side of the bar," he nodded. "My god she could have knocked out a football team with that perfume!"

"That is not what you smell like!" Sara playfully backhanded him. She rolled her eyes and muttered, "No woman better be making you smell like her, or I'll kick her ass."

“Yes you will,” Michael hugged her to him again and pressed his smile to hers. “Yes, you will.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Sara run into an old ally and neither of them realize the sparks that it would cause until it happens.

Sara stood in the middle of the bread aisle, trying to decide what to get. She tossed a loaf of white bread into the cart and then held two loaves of wheat up to Michael. "Which of these did you like best?"

Michael pondered the question with a frown. He pressed his finger to his lips and pointed to the loaf in her left hand. "That one," he smiled and resumed his consideration over the shopping list in his hand. "Do we need any more pasta?" he announced, suddenly really wanting a nice lasagna.

"I guess it doesn't hurt to buy some more," Sara shook her head and pushed their cart around a corner. "I'll get some of that garlic seasoning to put on the bread that we liked last time." She glanced to him, "Do we have anything to make for dessert?"

Michael smiled and pressed himself into her back, wrapping her in his embrace. His dipped his head and kissed her neck lovingly. Michael was in love and he wasn't ashamed to admit it. "Nothing edible," he whispered with a giggle. Lifting his head gently his laughter melted away and he stood up straight with shock. "Nika...?" he said, his voice wavering over the question.

Sara stood up straighter, her body visibly stiffening. It didn't help when Michael's grip loosened on her as he stared at the woman. Sara's grip on the cart visibly tightened, her knuckles turning white as Nika looked her husband up at down, "Hello, Michael."

Michael felt a pang of regret surge through him but it faded away quickly. Nika had meant something to him at once stage, he needed her to, but when she had tried to kill him, his whole opinion of her changed. "Hey," he said softly, noticing Sara's discomfort. "How are you doing?"

"I am doing good," Nika responded slowly, glancing back and forth between Michael and Sara. "And you? Everything is going well? You two are together?"

"Yeah," Michael smiled, touching his hand to Sara's on the cart. Her grip didn't loosen and her face didn't turn from boring hateful holes in Nika. "Aren't we Sara?" Michael grinned at her, squeezing her hand lightly and shaking her back to him.

"We are," Sara confirmed with a slight smile. "Being Mrs. Scofield isn't the easiest job in the world."

She started to say something else, when Nika cut in again, "Believe me. I know."

Sara forced a fake laugh from the back of her throat, trying to keep her grin plastered on. Sometimes it was easy to forget she was Mrs. Scofield the Second. Right now, it was pretty hard.

Nika laughed with Sara, her voice ever so slightly tainted by the accent in her throat. She fiddled with the packet of pasta in her hands, looking at it awkwardly before returning her gaze to Michael. "You look good, Michael," she breathed, ignoring Sara standing between them.

Sara cleared her throat, snatching the list of items they needed from Michael's hand. She stared down at it, pretending to read the items on the list, but really waiting for his response.

Michael smiled at Nika but was shaken from his peaceful moment by Sara's harsh hand scratching his to take the list. He sensed her discomfort and looked at her a little fearful of responding to Nika's comment. "Thanks," he said softly, not committing to a compliment laced response.

"We should get together sometime," Nika suggested boldly, still ignoring the fact that Sara was standing there. "Talk. I'd love to hear how you've been doing."

"You know what," Sara said, folding the list and putting it in her pocket. "I'm going to go and finish shopping while you two schedule your date. I'll be back in five minutes."

Michael looked between the two women and hurriedly sucked in a breath, desperate for Sara not to leave. "Listen, Nika," Michael began, pulling at his belt nervously as he watched Sara storm off around the aisle. "It's been nice talking to you, but we really shouldn't get together," he said honestly. Nika's face lost its smile and she looked back to the pasta in her hands. "We are not who we were," he said, turning and following the path Sara took.

Sara stalked down the aisle, tossing the items they still needed into the cart. Each time they hit the bottom with a slight clang, she felt an ounce of satisfaction. Crackers. Clang. Noodles. Clang. A packet of chocolate bars. Clang.

"Sara..." Michael called gently after her, jogging down the aisle after her. "Wait, Sara..." Michael pleaded, coming to a stop next to her. "Sara..." he called more firmly, grabbing the cart and stopping it so she had to talk to him.

"You want to push it?" Sara released the car when he physically stopped it. "Go ahead." She walked around him, turning down the next aisle and grabbing a stick of butter.

"Sara, what are you talking about? I was just saying hello," he objected. "What, I’m not allowed to say hey to the woman who helped me get out of prison? Helped me meet you."

"Don't even play that card with me, Michael," Sara rolled her eyes as she tossed the butter into the cart. "I'm not doing this here. Is that everything we need?"

Michael sighed heavily, the frustration evident in his voice. "You’ve got the list," he snapped.

"Oh, yeah. Get testy with me," Sara challenged, pointing to the register. She waited as the cashier rang them up, then handed over her credit card. She looked back over at Michael, shaking her head. "I might as well have been invisible!"

Michael packed the shopping in frustration. He gave the cashier a friendly smile, silently apologising for Sara's erratic behaviour and her harsh words. "We can talk at home, Sara," he warned gently.

"We can talk at home, Sara," Sara mimicked as they walked back out to the car. She knew that she probably shouldn't make a big deal out of the situation, but she couldn't help it. Getting into the passenger side, she slammed the door shut.

Michael finished putting the shopping in the back of the truck and pushed the tailgate shut gently. He slipped into the driver's seat and pulled on his seat belt, pushing the key silently into the ignition and turning over the engine of the huge, black, shiny Mitsubishi Warrior, Sara had bought him for their first Christmas together.

Sara purposely didn't fasten her seatbelt, knowing how much it pissed Michael off when she forgot. It pecked at his attention to detail. She glanced at her nails, considered scheduling a manicure, then finally spoke up. "So when's the big date?"

"Seatbelt," Michael droned. "Please," he added, biting the words out spitefully. "There is no date, Sara, don't be ridiculous. You really think I’d meet up with Nika, after everything..." he shook his head and accelerated quickly with a hum of the engine. "Unbelievable."

"You're the one who stood there letting her flirt with you! My God, could you have been anymore naked in her eyes?" Sara snapped, reaching around and tugging her seatbelt on. "Oh, Michael. You look gooood. You know I know she was in love with you, right? Lincoln told me."

"Lincoln..." Michael scoffed. "Typical." His hands gripped the wheel as he turned a corner, letting the click of the indicator fill the silence of the space between them. "I can't help the fact that Nika fell in love with me," Michael defended. "I never led her to believe we were anything more that business associates." Michael clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he indicated again and turned into the driveway of their house.

"Obviously he thought I should know. I can't believe you didn't tell me. And what was I at first?" Sara snapped, opening her purse and looking for a stick of gum. "Wasn't I just a business associate? Or was I even less than that because I wasn't even in on the whole deal until the end?"

"Sara..." Michael warned gently. "...Why do you always, always, do this when someone mentions Nika or Fox River?" He didn't wait for her answer. He pulled his door open and jumped out of the front seat, slamming the door behind him and storming to the front door.

Sara got out of her door and opened the back of the SUV, grabbing all the groceries. She stormed into the house after him and dropped them all on the counter. "Thanks for all the help, baby! How very gentlemanly of you!"

Michael ignored her and headed toward the counter and began piling the groceries into the cupboards and fridge. He could handle anything right now, except Sara's insecurities. He was tired. Tired of trying to convince her since the day they got married that she was the only woman he would ever love. He wasn't like Lincoln. He hadn't found his Veronica until he met Sara and he'd be damned if he lost her over Nika.

Sara helped unpack the groceries, smacking them down into the places they went, and slamming cabinets open and closed. She tossed a bag of peanuts into the lazy Susan and turned back to face him. "You're just ignoring me now?"

"No, Sara," He huffed, turning to her after slamming the refrigerator door closed. It wobbled gently on the floor before the light hum of the generator kicked in. "I just don't know what to say to you without you biting my head off!"

"Why don't you just be honest, Michael! That's all I want," Sara hopped onto the counter and crossed her arms. "I'm not blind, Michael, and you aren't either. You're always trying to be the perfect man but you're still a man. She has those hips, those breasts. . ." Sara shook her head.

"Yeah, okay," Michael spat, taking a step towards her. "I've always been one to lust after the body of any woman who isn’t my wife!" He stalked from her and quickly grabbed the cordless phone from the sideboard next to the coffee maker. "Shall I call her? Ask her if she wants a conjugal? Maybe we make it a threesome..." he slammed the phone back onto its base unit, disgusted at his own words.

Sara let out a quiet scoff and fixed him with a glare. "A threesome? Been there, done that." She hopped off the counter and walked towards him. "You're telling me that you honestly don't notice, Michael? You've never once noticed her body, or wondered what it would be like?"

"Not. Once." He stared at her, into her, his words low, deep and velvety as they slide from his mouth. "Believe what you want, Sara, but I didn't touch her."

"I didn't say you touched her, just that you had to have wanted to," Sara snapped. She motioned to her body. "Do you ever look at me? There's nothing special going on here, Michael. Nothing extra-big or voluptuous. It's just me. Sara, Plain and Tall."

"I didn't even want to!" he bellowed, waving his hand towards her. "There, is that what you wanted to hear? You are the only woman for me Sara...ever since I saw you...even in black and white photographs you were the one..." Michael's voice trailed off and he cupped his sweaty palm over his mouth.

"Oh, yeah, Michael," Sara rolled her eyes, moving into the living room. "It was me from the time you saw that black and white photo taped to your wall. That's why you used me, right?"

"For fuck sake!" Michael growled to himself, slamming his fist into the counter top and throwing open the serving hatch doors to watch her stalk into the lounge. "God, dammit!" He announced to the appliances, not really knowing what else to say.

"What?" Sara returned to the kitchen, her arms crossed. She gave him an innocent arch of her eyebrow. "You didn't use me, Michael? Because really, this is a new development." She took a step towards him.

"At first...at first, yes," he admitted in a low whisper of a voice. He licked his lips nervously and leant back against the counter. "I needed you to fall in love with me...I needed you..." his words failed him again and he looked away from her. "...I used you, Sara. Is that what you want me to say? I used you and I am not proud of it..."

"So broken," Sara rolled her eyes, opening the refrigerator and staring in. She didn't know why she was so mad at him, but she couldn't put a cork in it. "Everyone feels sorry for Michael, he carries the weight of what he did and who he hurt along with him all the time." She turned back to him, "Maybe you owe her a good fuck, Michael. Ever think of it like that?"

Michael bit back his anger. He had to for his own sake, as well as Sara's. There as only one person Michael wanted to fuck at this particular moment in time, and she was standing in front of him, her anger boiling over and seeping across the kitchen, transforming itself into arousal when it hit his body. "Sara..." he called gently, his voiced laced with emotion. "...I owe her nothing like that."

"Really?" Sara snapped, hopping back up onto the counter and kicking her feet against the cabinets. She softened a little. "Because sometimes I feel like you think you owe me. You think you owe me your love, you think you owe me your life, and this marriage. And that's why you're here. Because you think after what you did, it's what I need from you. Not because it's what you want."

"God damn it, Sara!" Michael sighed frustrated. He took a step towards her and dipped his head a little. "Why can't you just accept that I married you because I love you! I know I owe you everything I have..." he stepped forward again, letting her knees brush against his groin softly. His hands found Sara's knees and pulled them apart without her protests, and he stepped between her thighs. "...but I would never..." he bit his words again, letting his eyes roll closed. His mind ticked over furiously, desperately trying to think of the right combination of words to convince her but he drew a blank each time. When he opened his eyes again, and Sara looked at him with an angry expectancy, he grabbed her face in his hands and crushed his lips to hers.

Sara let out a gasp as Michael's lips pressed against hers. Letting out a strangled noise, she pushed him away. Shoving him slightly, she crossed her arms. "What the hell do you think you're doing!" She pointed back and forth between them. "We are trying to have a fight!"

"No, we're not..." Michael gasped, pulling Sara's face to his again and letting their lips collide. His tongue was in her mouth quicker than he could have anticipated, gently massaging the roof of her mouth with a ferocity he never knew he had. He tried to shuffle closer to her body but her position on the counter top made it difficult. Michael's hands left her face and roughly grabbed at her behind, sliding her forward until her crotch crashed into his.

An involuntary moan escaped Sara's lips as Michael pressed his lips to hers. She thought about pushing him away again so she could yell some more, but instead, she found herself grabbing onto his shirt, yanking his body closer to hers and melting against him. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she thrust into him, rubbing up against his arousal. She turned her head, letting out a low groan as his lips moved to her neck. "Michael. . ."

Michael's lips kissed her neck harshly and he let his teeth graze over the pulse that bobbed beneath her skin. He tore at the front of her blouse and buttons flew across the kitchen, finally bouncing across the floor where they landed. Michael's mouth found the soft lacy material of her bra and he teased her nipples through it, panting hard against her skin as he nipped at the flesh through the material. "There's never been anyone else..." he rasped against the valley of her breasts when her bra went slack and he pulled it from her body.

Sara tried to bite back her moans, but they escaped her again and again against her will. Tossing back her head, she reveled in his kisses, pressing herself closer and closer to him. As much as she was enjoying him, she didn't want to submit. "We. . . are. . . fighting."

Michael smiled wickedly against her soft milky skin and let his nimble fingers unhook the button of her jeans with ease, yanking them and her panties down over her behind with a forceful tug and leaving her naked before him. Michael seized her lips in his again, gobbling up her moans as he kneaded her breasts gently with a more hurtful pinch to her nipples every so often. Sara's moans were lost in his mouth and Michael's erection strained in his pants, desperate to be inside of her. Michael slid his hands down her back and gripped her behind, holding her to him and lifting her from the counter with a grunt. He stumbled backwards and then forwards, slamming Sara's body down onto their dining table. "If you say so..." he grinned huskily.

"We are," Sara mumbled, pressing her lips to his neck, before pulling away and yanking his shirt over his head. "I am very, very upset with you." She undid his jeans, shoving them down and cupping him through his boxers, and stroking him softly. She pressed her forehead to his cheek, flicking out her tongue along his neck, her voice low and full of need. "God. So, so angry."

Michael's eyes rolled closed as she stroked him, working his arousal into a frenzy in her hand. Michael couldn't take it anymore and he pushed his boxers down so they could join his jeans at his ankles before shuffling forward to her once more. "You'd better believe it..." he growled, pushing her back against the cold varnished wood and pulling her horizontal body to him by her hips. He impaled her quickly, thrusting into her hard and as deep as he could humanly reach.

Sara let out a cry of pleasure mixed with pain as Michael drove into her. Her head fell back, her mouth frozen open in a small 'o', waiting until her body got used to this new style of thrusting. "I'm the only one?"

Angered by her question, Michael drove into her harder than before to reiterate his statement, relishing in the shuddering moan of slight pain she let tumble from her lips. Michael's fingers dug into her hips so hard he thought he might be leaving bruises, but no one would see them. Only him. They would be his mark, his promise to Sara, that she was the only woman he would ever love. Michael's hand slid over Sara's body and gripped at her shoulder, holding her body to him as he pounded into her, not letting her escape her impending orgasm while he chased it ruthlessly.

Sara pressed her head down against the table, not even bothering to stifle her cries as he thrust into her time and time again. She didn't thrust her hips back or arch her back, just allowed him to guide himself at his own rushed, almost painful pace. "Michael. . ."

Michael's jaw clenched together and he sucked in his much needed breaths through his pearly white teeth with a hiss. When Michael felt the familiar pressure in his groin, he moved in and out of Sara with a kinder consideration. Beads of sweat rolled down his brow and pooled across his shoulders and his hand glided back to her hips holding her softer than before. "What about me?" Michael whispered, skimming his hands back across her body, gripping her hand and pulling her up to him so their chests crashed together. "I'm the only one?" he whispered, pulling her hips to him and stilling his movements when he disappeared inside of her.

Sara let out a groan as he stilled inside of her. Her body contracted around him and she pressed his face into his neck, placing a soft kiss against him. All of her anger evaporated, and she dropped her voice to a whisper. "You're the only one, Michael." She brought her head back to brush her lips to his. "You always will be."

Michael let out a thankful sigh and panted against Sara's face. That was all he wanted to hear. Michael lifted her from the table and let his legs fall from under him, letting them plummet to the floor. Michael laid backwards and Sara straddled him her with his manhood still buried inside of her. The movement made his shiver, the urge to climax fighting his rational thought.

Sara let out a moan at the change of position, tossing her hair back as she came. Her orgasm shook her body and she leaned forward, pressing her hands to his chest. "Come with me, Michael."

Michael's hips jerked up into Sara's slowly as her muscles began to spasm around him. It only took a few slow, deep thrusts and Michael was crooning her name, sitting up to bury his face in her breasts and holding her to him while he came. "Oh, Sara..." Michael panted against her skin, shuddering when he spilled his seed within her. His hand cupped her face and he kissed her long and slow, savouring the feel of her around him and her lips on his.

Sara pulled away from the kiss slowly, running her tongue over his bottom lip. "Yeah," she tossed her head back, running her hands through her long hair. "You need to clean the table now."

Michael chuckled and fell back against the floor, leaving her sitting astride his lap. "I'll clean it..." he promised with a grin. "...if you help me..."

Sara let out a breathy laugh, pressing a quick kiss to his neck. "Oh, baby, you know that's what I'm here for."


	10. Chapter 10

Michael let his keys slide from his hand and fall to a crumpled heap on the counter. He shot a glance around the quiet apartment. It was too quiet, Sara was normally home by now. He knew she was, he could smell her cinnamon aroma wafting through the empty space in from of him. With a smile, he followed his nose and it led him straight to the bedroom where Sara was sitting with one leg tucked under herself and a million sheet of paper spread out before her. She didn't notice him peering into the room, leaning casually against the door frame in his black slacks, ruffled white shirt with the two top buttons popped open and a black, silky tie hanging loosely around his neck. He scrunched his nose and his glasses shifted. "You know, we should get you an office," he smiled.

Sara glanced up at him, and smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She quickly collected all her papers, stuffing them back into a manilla folder. "It's just that since I do less work than most of the doctors, the paperwork tends to fall on me." She rolled her eyes and stretched. "The dictations, the filing. Making sure medical records keeps up to date."

"Don't they have people for that? Like, people who aren't doctors?" Michael said, gently crossing one foot over the other at the ankle and resting the side of his head to the doorframe.

"It's cheaper if I do it," Sara scoffed, letting out a tiny, annoyed laugh. She shrugged, dropping the envelope onto the floor next to the bed. "At least they gave me a job, I'm not going to complain."

"Hmm..." Michael said, rubbing his jaw and scratching lightly at his new growth. "...about work," he began, giving her an awkward pout. "I got a promotion today," he said modestly.

"Michael, that's great!" Sara moved off the bed and over towards him. She leaned into him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "We've been talking about how you deserve one for weeks today. We should go celebrate!"

"It's nothing major," Michael shrugged. "It's a new office, with a bigger desk for you to look hotter on when I take you to work..." he smirked, letting his lips finds hers again. "...oh, and like double the pay," he grinned playfully. "What does an assistant CEO do, anyway?"

"Double the pay?" Sara repeated with an arched eyebrow. "Michael, that's amazing!" She took hold of his loose tie, tugging on both ends playfully. "I'll tell you what an assistant CEO does. He takes his wife out to dinner, that's what."

Michael smiled and let his hands find her hips, snaking his fingers across the skin and under her shirt to the warmth of the bare skin of her back. "And where does the assistant CEO's wife want to go?" He smirked, pulling her to him and pushing his glasses back up his nose quickly.

"Somewhere expensive," Sara teased, brushing her lips against his neck. "Somewhere I can wear my new black heels, and my little black dress." She smiled, "And then we'll come back here, and I'll take it all off and show you how proud I am."

Michael sucked in a breath and let his eyes flutter closed and he let out a content growl. "Assistant CEO Michael Scofield likes that idea...very much," he mused, his eyes still closed. He lets his grin and flickering eyelids tell Sara what he was imagining. "Oh..." he paused playfully, holding up a hand to stop her speech. "...yes, Sara, you're dress looks good on you..." he talked to the imaginary Sara while the real one gave him an arched eyebrow. "...no, no...no need to wear panties," he broke into a giggle when Sara slapped him playfully across the chest. "What?" he asked with a grin.

"Wouldn't want to give you a reason to want to drag me into the cloak room for a quickie," Sara teased, walking over to the closet. She rifled through her dresses. "Are you going to have to work more hours?" She selected a dress and stepped out of the closet. "What about business trips? I hate it here alone."

"Nope," Michael said simply, shaking his head and pulling the knot from his tie. He walked to his own closet, flicking on the light and unbuttoning his shirt. "It's actually less hours, more work from home, and everything is done by conference calls," he called from his walk in wardrobe. "I have to work late at the office on Fridays though," he said, pulling his shirt over his shoulders and tossing it into the laundry bin.

"Oh, good. Working at home. I love to bug you when you're in the office." Sara tousled her hair, then turned back into her closet looking for her new pair of black shoes. How could she have already lost them? "Michael, are you in the bathroom? Can you plug in my curling iron?"

Michael frowned, letting the crimson softness of his shirt fall against his shoulders. "No, I’m not. Curling iron?" he asked. Michael had no idea what a curling iron was, or what it did. He watched his hands as he buttoned his shirt, turning to watch himself in his full-length mirror as he tucked in the ends of his shirt and finished off his smart pants with a dull leather belt that had a brushed chrome buckle. He pulled it to the center, covering his button, and turned to decide what to wear over his shirt. "Is Neso's expensive enough for an assistant CEO's wife?" he smiled to himself, knowing full well that a forty dollar salad and hundred dollar wine was more than enough.

"Ha!" Sara let out a cry of triumph as she came across her new black heels. She grabbed the box and moved it to the middle of the closet before taking her dress off the hanger. Slipping into it, she studied her reflection.

Deciding against wearing another suit jacket out for the evening, Michael popped the top two buttons of his shirt open and smoothed his already flat, short hair in the mirror. He kicked off his work shoes and retrieved a pair of his old favourites. They were a pair of black leather Chelsea boots he had bought from Italy before he went to Fox River. They were hard wearing, never lost their comfort and were as spectacular as the country they came from. He pulled them on and smoothed his shirt as he stood. He turned and he plucked his black suede jacket from his hanger, slipping it on and flattening the collar.

Sara smoothed out the front of her dress and stepped into her strappy sandals. They made her a few inches taller, and she turned checking out her reflection from the back. Maybe she wouldn't take the time to do her hair. Giving one last twirl, she walked out of the closet.

Michael turned and walked out of his closet at exactly the same time as Sara. His head was down and he had decided, for rugged emphasis, to leave his stubble. "Sara..." he began, lifting his head, but his words were stolen from him when he saw her. Her dress was indeed small, and indeed black, and his eyes roamed over her body ravenously. Her perfectly sculpted feet sat snugly in a pair of heeled, strappy sandals that showed off the smooth skin of her ankles. His eyes moved up, trailing their hungry gaze over her smooth thighs, the curve of her behind that the black material hugged at, and over her heaving bosom. When his eyes finally met hers, he was breathless. "Wow..." he whispered, blinking uncontrollably. If he didn't know better, he could have sworn his glasses had just steamed up. "...don't I feel underdressed."

"Stop looking at me like that," Sara teased, closing the gap between them. She wrapped her arms around his neck and smirked. They were almost eye level. Kissing him quickly, she whispered, "You better not spend all evening undressing me with your eyes."

"I uh..." Michael stammered, letting his hands find the small of her back. It was exposed and his hot fingertips brushed her smooth, downy skin. He frowned, took her hand and spun her around to get a better view. "...did I buy you this?" he asked in a squeaky, nervous voice as she twirled. "No..." he shook his head and pulled her back to him, crushing her lips to his. "...I'd remember," he smirked.

"I bought it for myself," Sara told him coyly. She pulled back and struck a pose, kicking one of her feet up behind her. "I take it you like it though." She smirked. "You don't look so bad yourself."

"Like it?" Michael stalked towards her with a playful scowl. "I love it," he growled, swishing her hair from her neck and planting his lips to the smooth skin of her shoulder. "Do we have to go out tonight?" he breathed against her skin as his hand skimmed down her dress. "Wait..." His head snapped up as he smoothed his fingers over her waist and over the curve of her behind. "...is that...no panties?" he quirked an eyebrow expectantly.

"No panties," Sara breathed into Michael's ear. She took his earlobe in her mouth, sucking gently before scraping her teeth gently over the sensitive skin. She ran her hands down his chest, then lower, gently cupping the bulge in his pants. "Apparently that's exciting?"

Michael's breath left him suddenly through his wide grin. He almost melted into Sara's touch before he pulled away with a light growl of disapproval to his feet. "You have any idea what you do to me?" he looked up at her innocently and then nodded when she gave him a coy smile as she bit her bottom lip. "You know, I think you do," he arched his eyebrow and licked his lips.

"Oh, I do," Sara murmured, pressing a soft, wet kiss to his neck. "And I love every single second of it." She pressed her lips to his, closing her eyes. "And you love every second too."

Michael let a puff of breath escape his lips as he laughed sarcastically. "It's torture, you know that right? Legal torture." He lifted her hands so they hung around his neck and his hands found her hips again, gently drawing circles over the thinly clad skin. "Do you learn this in medical school?" he mused.

"Oh, no," Sara breathed with a laugh, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. She drew him in for a slow kiss. "I've just picked up a few tricks along the way."

Michael hummed contently against her lips, drawing her body closer to his and letting his hands dip under the hem of her dress to tickle at her bare, smooth behind. He smiled against her lips when she leant into him more and he deepened the kiss, nibbling on her bottom lip playfully. When he couldn't breathe anymore, he pulled his head back and sighed with a smile. He cocked his head at her, stroking a wisp of hair from her brow. "Do you like being a doctor?" he asked seriously.

Sara pulled away, slightly surprised by his question. Moving over to the dresser, she dug through her pile of lipsticks, looking for the right color. "I love being a doctor, Michael. You know that." She shrugged and glanced at herself in the mirror. "At least I did when I felt like I was really helping people."

Michael frowned at her reflection in her mirror. "You don't feel like you are helping people at county?" he asked, pushing the sides of his jacket backwards and letting his hands slide into his pockets.

"Sometimes I feel like. . ." Sara paused, then shrugged. "A glorified nurse? Maybe not even that. At least they're allowed to administer IVs. I do stitches, I take temperatures, I run triage. I can diagnose, but I can't prescribe. Sometimes I just feel like. . ." She trailed off and shrugged.

Sara paused, her lipstick poised close to her lips and turned to face him. She shook her head slowly, "Maybe someday, but not right now. I'd get bored around the house. I'd start painting a wall, get bored again, and never finish or something."

Michael gave her a quizzical look and moved to perch on the end of their bed. "But you just said you didn't really enjoy working," he pointed out, pressing his hands together and squeezing them between his knees.

"I'm still doing something though," Sara shrugged. "I need to do something, Michael. I'm not one who can sit around doing nothing. I'll get depressed or something." She walked towards him and shrugged. "Plus, I like feeling like I contribute something to this household."

Michael smiled. "So, walking around all day looking sexy in your pajamas isn't contributing to the household?" He laughed a little, and then scratched the side of his head gently. "Seriously though, you could give up work and we would be fine."

"It's not like you would be here to see me," Sara teased gently, leaning in for a kiss. She then pulled away, tilting her head to the side. "Do you want me to quit?"

“If I said yes, would it be a bad thing?” he offered gently.

"I just. . ." Sara paused and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "I just don't understand why?"

"You're not happy, you said that. Why would you want to stay in a job that gives you nothing?" Michael asked her but immediately missed the warmth of her body when she moved from him. "Sara, I’m just saying...being a doctor now, after everything...it's not going to be easy."

Sara flicked her tongue out over her lower lip, studying him closely. A bit stung by his words, she crossed her arms and took another step away. "No one's going to want to hire a junkie, right?"

Michael softened at her words and stood to face her. "I didn't say that," he objected. "But while we are on the subject, who is going to trust you with prescriptions? Doctors need to prescribe Sara, or they are just glorified nurses!" Michael's words sounded a bit harsher as they tumbled from his mouth than they did in his head.

"How dare you?" Sara muttered, turning away from him and heading into the bathroom. "I can get it back, Michael! I just have to work at it for awhile. I have to prove myself. I have to show that I can be back in that environment, and stay sober!"

Before Michael could even stop himself, the words he never thought he'd hear himself say spilled from his mouth and belittled everything, every bit of faith he had in his wife. "Can you?"

Sara stared at herself in the mirror for a second before walking back out into the bedroom. She walked over to him, crossed her arms in front of her and stared him down. "Excuse me?"

Michael took a sharp breath and placed his hands on his hips. "You were sober for a very long time, Sara. and then..." he looked away from her as his voice became silent and his words faded away.

"And then you asked me to jeopardize my whole life and you left me," Sara spat out. She stood rigid in place, her arms still crossed in front of her. "Are you planning to do that again?"

"No." Michael spat angrily, not looking at her.

"Oh," Sara rolled her eyes and let her body slump. She gave a sarcastic laugh. "Because I thought you were going to have a bad reason for challenging my sobriety!" She stood up straight again. "Okay. I'm ready for the good one."

Michael clenched his jaw together and stared at her with a deep furrowed brow. "You know, all I did was suggest something that would make you happier. Why do you have to go and throw it in my face!"

"I didn't throw this in your face!" Sara raised her voice. She pointed at him. "I did not start this! All I did was tell you it was going to take awhile for them to trust me and you stand there. You stand there and you dare ask me if I think I can handle being around drugs again."

Michael scoffed at her words. "You didn't start this..." he let a low chuckle escape his lips. "That's a god damn first, Sara!"

Sara recrossed her arms, then turned on her heel, walking across the room. She took off one shoe, tossed it in the closet, then followed suit with the other. "What the hell does that mean?"

"You!" Michael bellowed, following her lead and yanking his jacket off his shoulders. He figured dinner was now out of the question. "You're always turning everything into an argument!" He shouted at her accusingly, his body leaning forward and his voice echoing off the walls.

"Do you blame me?" Sara snapped back. She walked into her closet and stepped out of her dress roughly, leaving it in a pile on the bottom of the closet floor. "I have a husband who obviously can't look passed the fact that he married an addict." She yanked on an old pair of jeans and reached for a thermal shirt. Tugging it over her head she called, "Should I be sure to tune into the five o'clock news this week? Will you be returning to your old ways and robbing some banks?"

"Oh..." Michael felt the laughter leave him at her words and he shook his head. "That's good," he nodded, rubbing his hand over his mouth to wipe away his laughter.

"No, not that?" Sara snapped, walking back out of the closet. She grabbed a band off the dresser and pulled her hair up into a pony tail. "Um. Are you going to pity-marry yet another woman?"

"Yeah, that's it," he spat sarcastically. "Tell me..." he said, licking his lips and taking a step towards her while he pointing a finger at her. "Is all this arguing your way of getting a new fix? Huh? Are you addicted to fighting, Sara?" he barked, his face so close to hers that his breath pummelled her face.

She wanted to slap him. She wanted to punch him. She wanted to find a way to hurt him as much as he had just hurt her. Instead, she bit her bottom lip and muttered, "Go to hell." Shaking her head she moved towards the bathroom, glancing over her shoulder before she shut the door behind her, her voice came out barely a whisper. "Why did you even marry me?"

Michael pressed his fingers into his forehead, letting his nails dig into his skin. He hefted a sigh into eh room and let his head fall back so he could stare at the ceiling. She was right, he should go to hell. All Sara did was try and make her life work, against unspeakable odds, and all he had just done was throw it back in her face. Michael walked over to the bathroom door and laid his hand to the cool wood that felt warm under his fingertips. He could swear he could feel her heat radiating from the other side, even if he couldn't see her pressed to the door. "I love you," he whispered against the wood. "That's why I married you."  
"Yeah," Sara muttered, crossing her arms and laying her head back against the door. She was doing her best not to cry. "Right, Michael."

Michael licked his lips slowly, hefting another sigh as he bit against his thumbnail nervously. "Sara, I love you more than anything in the entire world." A nervous smile crept onto his lips and he rested his forehead against the door. "More than burritos, more than filet mignon," he grinned to himself. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said what I did. I know you're better than that."

Sara opened the door, stepping quickly back as Michael practically tumbled into her. She moved passed him, back into the bedroom and shook her head. "No, Michael. You love that you have someone who you can feel worse about than you feel about yourself. All you did was rob a bank to save your brother, and get a few people killed along the way." She pointed to herself. "Not Sara though. She's self-destructive. She hurts herself for selfish reasons!"

"Sara, I don't know why you did what you did. I don't really want to know because you know what? It's in the past, and so help me, if you say it was my fault...I..." he gripped his hand, closing it into a fist that shook at the side of his head while he cut off his words. "I can barely get through each day knowing what happened because of me, and here you are..." he snapped. "Well guess what, Sara? I'm done. I'm done caring, and I’m done trying to convince you that you mean something to me when obviously you don't believe a fucking word I say!" Michael bit his words out at her as he stormed passed, slamming the bedroom door behind him as he stomped down the stairs.

Sara followed him out of the bedroom, leaning over the stairs and yelling down at him. "I am not chasing after you! I always do. Always! So if you want to be done, if you want to be gone. . . then fine! Go."

Michael ignored her angry tirade as he leapt off the last step of the stairs and threw open the front door, stepping out into the night and slamming it behind him. The old brass door knocker clattered against the wood and the frame shook in its place. Michael's feet carried down the steps at the front of their house and he collided with his Warrior, stopping himself with two powerful hands to the roof. He yanked open the door, slumping into the driver's seat and slamming the door behind him before realising he had left his keys inside. "Fuck!" He yelled into the truck, thumping the steering wheel.

Sara stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, slightly shocked that he had actually left. She finally moved back into the bedroom, collecting her work and trying to settle herself comfortably on the bed. Maybe, in a way, Michael was right. She was an addict. She had to have something occupying her life. If it wasn't drugs, it was work. It was Michael. It was anything. Pushing her papers away from her, she laid her head in her hands and began to cry.

Michael's hands gripped at the wheel and his knuckles turned white. He was pathetic. He had no idea what had made him seethe so much and hurt Sara so much. He knew she was hurting because she always used anger as a weapon when she was. He padded down his pants and realised he had left his house keys indoors too. Glancing up at the bedroom window, he saw Sara's shadow slump onto the bed and then disappear so he could only assume she had laid down. "Just...go to her," he said to himself quietly, rubbing his hands around the wheel. Michael pulled the door handle, letting the chrome bar spring back into place when he let go, and stepped from the truck. He climbed the steps and paused outside the door, hesitating before knocking the door.

Sara sat up, wiping quickly at her eyes when she heard the knock on the door. She was confused for a moment, before her eyes fell on Michael's keys, sitting on the dresser. "Of course," she muttered, standing up and padding downstairs. Opening the door, she gave him a look. "No. I don't want any girl scout cookies."

“Good,” Michael said softly looking at his feet. “Because I’m only selling apologies,” he swallowed a lump in his throat and looked up at her sheepishly.

Sara stepped away from the door, so he could come in the house. Turning around, she walked towards the stairs. "Your keys are on the dresser if you still want to leave."

Michael closed the door gently behind him. "Of course I don't want to leave," he breathed. "I never want to leave you. Ever."

"Really?" Sara arched an eyebrow. "And if you hadn't forgotten your keys, you'd still be back in here? Or would you be on your way to Lincoln's? Or to some bar?"

"I'm not perfect, Sara," Michael told her, brushing past her to the kitchen. "I'm not a hero, and I’m not a savior. I'm just a man, along with everyone else in the world who has their problems.” He finished plucking a glass from the shelf above their sink and leant against the counter with a sigh. She could feel him watching her. "As soon as I sat in the truck..." he whispered, staring at his distorted reflection in the sink unit glaring back at him from the chrome. "...I was already back home," he told her gently, turning to look at her tear stained face. It was the absolute truth. Michael hadn't planned on leaving at all, just sitting in the truck thinking. He might have started the engine, even put it in drive, but he wouldn't have left it like he had.

Sara leaned against the wall, watching him as he moved about the kitchen. She let his words sink in, then let out a sigh, shaking her head. "Do you really think I like fighting with you, Michael? Because I don't." She sighed. "Sometimes I wish you'd just think before you said things."

"Me too," Michael nodded in agreement. "I never meant it you know..." he rolled his head back to where it had started, staring at his fuzzy reflection in the sink. "...I could never mean it," he breathed. His voice was so quiet he wondered if she even heard him. He pushed himself from the counter and paced to the other side of the kitchen, pulling open the fridge and grabbing a carton of apple juice from the door.

"It feels like you mean it," Sara murmured, glancing down. She sighed. "Maybe it feels like you mean it because it's true, Michael. What kind of doctor am I? No one's ever going to trust me again. And it's my fault. It's all my own fault." She walked closer to him, leaning against the sink. "My father was right, I should never have even become a doctor."

"Don't say that," he head snapped towards her and his words were firm. "We wouldn't be here today if you were an unbelievable pain in your father's ass," he let a small smile grace his lips as he replaced the carton back in the door.

Michael smiled. "I doubt that very much," he said with a chuckle. "Can you imagine his face as he extended his hand to these on a hot summers day?" he rolled up his sleeves a little and motioned at his tattoo. He paused for a second, shifting position as he took a swig of his juice letting the freezing cold liquid slide down his sore throat. "My mom would have loved you though," he said sadly, staring into his juice as it swirled in the glass.

"You call me on my shit, and you don't let me walk all over you. He would have liked you," Sara repeated firmly. She smirked, "Plus, you want me to quit my job." She was silent for a moment after he mentioned his mother. It was something both he and Lincoln rarely ever did. Few pictures existed still, and Michael had only ever shown them to Sara once. She moved even closer to him and rubbed her thumb over his wrist, dropping her voice. "I wish I could have met her."

Michael lifted his head a little and gave her a weak smile. "I never knew my father," Michael admitted. "Not until...well, not until he died," he lowered his head again and moved the glass to rest it on the counter behind him. "My mother was my world. Even up until her very last day, she was never anything but the most beautiful, intelligent, loving woman anybody could ever of known." Michael crossed his arms over his chest, gently tightening them in a hugging motion. It didn't matter why he was upset, or how badly he hurt on the inside, his mother would hug him and it would all just disappear. Michael lifted his head and looked directly into Sara's eyes. "You're a lot like her," he said slowly.

"Yeah?" Sara asked gently. She rubbed her hands gently over his crossed arms. She wanted him to talk about it. She kept her eyes on his and whispered, "How's that?"

Michael unfolded his arms and slouched down the counter a little, bringing them more eye level. He smiled and a little laughed a little as he remembered his mother's voice echoing in his head. "She would wake up, every day, regardless of how she was feeling, just to kiss me goodbye when I went to school," he looked down and took her hands in his, gently rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "She would do anything for me," his gaze met hers again and he gave her hands a gentle squeeze, a silent thank you for leaving the door open that night and not giving up on him since. "Even when I was a total bastard, she was always there, and never judged me," he laughed a little again, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His smile faded and he dropped his head again. "One day, she kissed me goodbye and I never saw her again," Michael said sadly, fighting back the tears that burned at his throat. "I didn't even know she was sick," he choked out quietly.

Sara closed the small gap that was left between them, pulling Michael into a tight hug. "You never told me that before," she murmured against his neck. "I'm so sorry, Michael. I can't imagine what that would be like." Something in her chest squeezed as she thought about Michael comparing her to his mother. Someone he held on a higher pedestal than anyone. "She sounds like an amazing woman."

Michael wrapped his arms around Sara, letting her hug him while he inhaled the scent of her hair and tried not to cry. Finally, he pulled out of the embrace, cupping her cheek in his hand and brushing his thumb over her cheeks. "You are," he said simply, shifting the focus of the conversation back to her. She had said it herself. Michael's mother was an amazing woman, and so by association, she was too.

Sara smiled softly, feeling tears prick her eyes. She brushed her thumb across Michael's bottom lip and glanced away, almost embarrassed. "I'm sure no one would have been good enough for her baby boy."

Michael brought his other hand up to touch Sara's cheek and he moved her gaze back to his. He tilted his gaze down as he tilted her chin up slowly. "You're everything she would have wanted me to find happiness in," he said firmly with a weak smile. "Don't ever think anything less."

Sara nodded once and leaned in, brushing her lips across Michael's. Leaning her forehead against his, she whispered, "You know how proud she would be of you, don't you?"

Something inside Michael’s heart wrenched and he couldn't hold back his tears anymore. He closed his eyes and rolled his forehead against Sara, averting his eyes as the tears spilled down his cheeks and soaked his shirt when they dripped from his chin. The mere thought of his mother being alive to be proud of him made him so emotional he didn't know what to do with himself. So he cried. And Sara held his face in her hands while he let his feeling out in watery droplets that stained his face and made his lip quiver.

Sara stood and let him cry, not speaking as he let it out. After a few moments, she moved her hands, brushing her thumbs across his cheeks, trying to wipe away his tears. Pressing a kiss to the side of his head, she continued on, hoping she wasn't crossing a line or upsetting him too badly. She corrected her earlier words, "I'm sure she is proud of you, Michael. What you did for Linc, what you've done for me. . ." Sara trailed off. "Maybe she. . . was there helping you. Maybe that's why everything worked out so good."

A nervous laugh left Michael's lips on a breath and all he could do was nod as his breath became ragged and burned his lungs. He hated crying, and it only ever happened when he talked about his mother, but Sara was right. She was looking down on him all the time, he knew it, and she was prouder of him as the man he was than the kid she left behind. Before Sara had time to say anything else, Michael tightened his grip on her face and lifted his head, capturing her lips in a slow, salty kiss of silent thanks he couldn't say through his sobs.

Sara kissed him back, her lips lingering against his even after the kiss ended. She wiped his tears again, then pressed a kiss to each of his cheeks. "I love you, Michael. Always."

Michael's lips twitched up into a small smile and his sobs receded, leaving his breath still hitching slightly. He pressed his forehead to hers again and let his eyes meet hers. "Forever," he whispered.

Sara looped her arms around his neck, pulling him towards the stairs. She linked her fingers with his and kissed his forehead. "Come on. I still have to congratulate you."

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael has a surprise for Sara

The hospital was, as ever, bustling with people. That never changed and Michael wondered how Sara had the energy to come home and look after him as well as half of Chicago. He walked up to the reception desk and was just about to ask the huge, bulky mass of man behind the wooden structure where Sara was, when she emerged from a curtain near by. Her long, white coat open and she was wearing green. He loved her in green and he had left for work too early this morning to see her get dressed. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and she was just depositing a chart into the outpatient’s tray. “Excuse me. Are you a doctor?” he smirked.

Sara glanced up, and broke out into a smile when she saw Michael standing in front of her. He had been up and off to work before she had even gotten up that morning and she had been too busy to call him during the day. She crossed her arms, unable to bury her smirk. "In fact, I am."

Michael smiled at her and took hold of her elbow gently. His hands were warm, even through her coat, and he turned her around to guide her back into the cubicle. He shot a glance over his shoulder before he tugged at the curtain and it slid across with a metallic scrape. “Good. I need a doctor,” he grinned, resting his hands to her waist and pulling her to him.

"Oh, you do, do you?" Sara smirked, bringing an arm up to wrap around his neck. She tilted her head to the side. "And what seems to be the problem, Mr. Scofield?"

He rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling and took a large breath. “I have this thing. In my chest. And it make my heart skip a beat. I think it’s love,” he smirked, looking back down to her. “I can’t stop thinking about my wife…” he whispered, lowering his face into her neck and kissing her skin there. “…Is there a cure?”

Sara laughed quietly, and cupped his face in her hands, bringing him up to look at her. She smiled and shook her head slightly, "Hmm, I seem to have the same problem when it comes to my husband." Leaning in, she placed a soft kiss on his mouth. "I'm not too sure I want it cured though."

“Me either,” he mumbled against her mouth with a smile. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to his body, sighing contently. “I missed my morning hug,” he whined, holding her tighter.

"You should have woke me up before you left," Sara whispered into his ear, running her hands up and down his back as they swayed slightly. "I like my mornings better when I start them seeing you."

Michael groaned a little, enjoying the feel of her in his arms. “I didn’t want to wake you,” he admitted, pulling backward to look at her again. He gave her a smiled and planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. “You look so beautiful when you sleep.”

Sara smiled softly and leaned in, kissing him softly. She brought her hand to his cheek, stroking his face with her thumb. "I have one more thing I have to take care of, and then I should be good to go."

Michael smiled and kissed her again, his lips barely touching hers. “Good. I have a surprise for you and you need to leave work as soon as possible,” he wiggled his eyebrows at her and let her slip from his embrace. He took a step backwards towards the curtain and smirked at her again. “And you’ll want to change,” he teased, pointing to her coat. “Dress casual.”

Sara tilted her head to the side and arched an eyebrow, tugging on her lab coat. "What? You don't think I look sexy in this?"

A low growl escaped Michael’s throat and he shook his head. “Too sexy. The lab coat is too sexy,” he winked and pulled the curtain back. “I’ll be in the truck. Hurry, you have…” he looked at his watch, pulling back the sleeve of his green khaki jacket. “…You have like 20 minutes before we are late.”

Sara rolled her eyes and pushed him out of the cubicle. "Then you need to go so I can get out of here. I'll see you in ten minutes." She moved away from him, going to check on her last patient so she could sign out.

As if it were a compulsion, Michael checked his watch again. They only had another thirty minutes until the sun set and if he wanted to make their deadline, they would have to leave soon. He shuffled in the truck, looking in the rear view ad inspected the automatic doors to see if Sara was coming yet. He sighed and then swapped his glances for the side mirrors, checking to see if she hadn’t snuck up on him by accident.

Sara grabbed her purse from the locker room, and headed out to the parking lot. She glanced around for a moment before locating where Michael was parked. Smiling, she made her way to the truck. Climbing into the passenger seat beside him, she shut her door. "Alright. What's the big plan?"

“You’ll see,” Michael smirked, starting the engine. It roared to life and after a few revs, it lurched forward towards the parking lot exit. “Are you hungry?” Michael asked her as the truck joined the queue of traffic leaving the city.

"Starved," Sara informed him, setting her purse on the floor and moving closer to him on the bench seat. She smoothed her hand over his kneed and up his leg, leaving it rest on his thigh. "I had to skip lunch today."

Michael’s eyes flickering down to hers on his leg and he dropped one of his from the leathery steering wheel to entwine his fingers with hers. “You shouldn’t skip lunch, baby,” he said softly. “Because I don’t exactly have dinner plans,” he confused with a worried expression, focusing back on the road.

"I don't need to eat a lot," Sara shook her head before laying it on his shoulder. She turned her head, brushing her lips across his neck. "Tell me where we're going."

“How about you wait and see,” he smiled softly, brushing his thumb over her knuckles and managing to turn the truck with one hand. Where they were going was out, in the middle of nowhere. Michael had found out about it on one of the contracting job he had undertaken. It wasn’t actually at this site, but he had needed to use this site late one night to get a better view of the construction below. That was when he saw it and decided Sara needed to as well. “It’s a surprise.”

Sara smiled, letting her eyes flutter shut. She snuggled closer to him, letting out a content hum. "Mmm, I like your surprises, baby."

Michael smiled, turned his head a little and pressed his lips to her soft, auburn tresses. “Well, I hope you like this one because other then you, it’s the most beautiful thing you’ll ever see.”

Sara laughed quietly and pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder. "I'm the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, Scofield?"

“And ever will see,” Michael smiled, squeezing her hand lightly as he they exited the city. He drove for a little while longer and the further they got from the city, the less cars there were. He turned off the main road and the truck jolted down a bumpy track. It was desolate and there were no road signs or markings anywhere. Just as they were about to turn around the corner, Michael stopped the truck and reversed towards the edge of the dirt cliff that overlooked the city. “We’re here,” he grinned, arching his brow at her before pulling his door open and leaving her confused in the truck.

"Oh, I see. . ." Sara called as he walked around the truck. "You've brought me to the middle of nowhere to kill me. Have you fallen in love with another woman?"

Michael looked up at her as he pulled the tailgate down and gave her a wicked grin as he shook his head. The heavy tailgate fell open and he clambered up onto the back of the truck, fishing around in a blue metal storage box. Eventually he pulled out a thick blanket and rolled it out over the inside of the truck, crawled to the back of the truck again and offered her his hand. “Will you join me?”

"Oh my God," Sara teased, taking his hand. "You sold the house! You love the truck so much that you want to move into it."

Michael let out a stifled laugh and pulled her up onto the back of the truck with him. “Yes, that’s it,” he rolled his eyes playfully. “Welcome to our new dining room,” he giggled, sitting down and rummaging through the storage box again. “And this…” he called loudly. He was so hunched over the box that he was almost in it. He emerged triumphantly with two plates wrapped in foil. Unwrapping one, he set it down in front of her, the Greek salad still moist and drizzled in olive oil. “…Is our dinner.”

"Oooh," Sara smiled and took the fork he offered her, taking a slow bite. "Mm, it tastes so good. I'm starving." She glanced around. "Why here though?"

“Well…” Michael began, leaving his own salad still wrapped in front of him. He really wasn’t hungry. He just wanted to see Sara’s face when the real surprise happened. He looked at his wrist again, counting down the seconds during his pause. “…If you would be so kind as to look that way…” he pointed to the back of the truck, out over the city to the horizon where the sun had begun to set. The burning orange of the sun engulfed the entire sky, and it shone over the distant edges of the buildings, making the harsh world seem so much more surreal. “…Surprise,” he whispered, watching Sara’s face with a smile.

Sara's mouth fell open just slightly and she set her salad down in front of her, just staring at the sight before her. After a moment, she glanced towards Michael. "God, baby, it's beautiful." She turned back to the sunset. "It's like we're in our own little world."

“Exactly,” Michael breathed, sliding his salad sideways and shuffling closer to her. He reached up and tucked some strands of her hair behind her ear, watching his hand and enjoying the feel of her skin on his fingertips. “No Work. No Lincoln. No nothing,” he whispered softly, pressing a kiss to her earlobe. “Just us.”

Sara fluttered her eyes closed and let out a content sigh as Michael kissed her. She tilted her head towards him. "You're not watching."

“I’ve seen it before,” he admitted, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth. “And it’s beautiful but what I am looking at is magnificent.” Michael lifted his hand to caress her cheek, holding her face with his palm and smoothing his thumb over her cheek as he kissed her mouth again.

Sara tilted her head, meeting his lips in a long, slow kiss. "When have you been here before? Don't tell me you bring all your wives here."

Ignoring her wife comment, Michael simply smiled and shook his head. He leant forward, laying down on his stomach and pulled her with him so she was lying next to her. “See that building going up right there?” he squinted and pointed down to the construction site. “I was up here getting a better view of how it’s looking last week and let’s just say I didn’t see what I wanted to,” he smiled, propping himself up on his elbows and looking over to her. “I saw something better,” he said softly, watching the light begin to disappear over the horizon.

"I'm glad you saw it, and I'm glad you brought me here," Sara said softly, turning her gaze on him. She rolled onto her back, running her hand down his arm. "Very glad, baby. Very, very romantic."

Michael crawled towards her, and leant down to pressed his lips to hers for a sideways kiss. “I try,” he breathed, uncrossing his arms and resting one of his hands to her stomach, gently stroking over the material of her sweater as the last glow of sunlight disappeared from the sky and the silvery glow of the moon took over. “How romantic is a full moon, baby?”

Sara smiled softly, turning her head so she could smile at him. "Oh, baby, you really planned this perfectly didn't you? I love you."

“I love you, Sara. More then you know,” he whispered softly, stroking her cheek with his knuckles. He shot a glance towards the cab of the truck and their discarded dinners. “You want to finish your salad? I mean…if you’re hungry.”

Sara shook her head, taking his hand in hers and placing a kiss to each of his knuckles. "No, I don't need to finish it."

Michael smiled at her and propped his head up on his elbow beside her body, watching her kiss his hand tenderly. “You’re not cold are you? I brought an extra blanket just in case.”

"Nope, I'm good," Sara turned his hand over and began placing soft kisses to each of his fingertips. "It's a nice night."

“I meant what I said at the hospital,” Michael let his hand slip from the back of his head to brush away some delicate hairs from her brow. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

"I can't stop thinking about you either," Sara whispered, shaking her head slightly. "I love you more every day, Michael. I really do."

“I’m glad you said yes,” Michael whispered, dropping his gaze to his hand that had found her hip and was trailing circles over the material of her pants. He lifted his leg and bent his knee, pushing it between Sara’s legs and resting it to her thigh. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.”

Sara smiled and brought her hand up, gently caressing his face with her thumb. She loved when Michael felt mushy and romantic. "I know how much you love me, Michael."

Michael was suddenly overcome with a nervous feeling like nothing he had ever experienced before. It was strange, like a tingling in the pit of his stomach and he felt a blush creep across his cheek under Sara’s hand. A small smiled played across his lips and he leant further into her touch, letting his eyes flutter closed. “Sara, can I make love to you?”

"Michael. . ." Sara sat up a little and brushed her lips against his. She pulled away and smoothed her hand over his closely shaven head. "Why do you think you even need to ask?"

Michael opened his eyes and shrugged, grinning childishly. “It’s polite?” he offered, unsure of his own answer. A small chuckle escaped his throat and he moved to capture her lips in his, pushing himself up onto all fours and hovering over her body.

Sara smiled against his mouth and moved her hands up under his shirt, dancing her fingertips across his stomach. "Where would I be without you?"

Michael’s skin tickled under her touch and he slid his kisses sideways to the corner of her mouth. “In the back of a truck alone…” he teased, kissing her jaw.

Sara laughed quietly and cupped his face in her hand, turning her head to kiss him. "I'm serious, Michael. You mean everything to me."

Michael stopped his assault on her body to look at her, flickering his eyes over her features and revelling at the feel of her hands on his skin. If he were honest with himself, if it wasn’t for Sara, he would have given up on life a long time ago. He closed the gap between them slowly, taking his time to savour the taste of her lips on his as he kissed her again, cupping her face in his hands and lowering his body onto hers.

Sara pressed her body up into him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her hand to the back of his neck, drawing him closer. She let out a quiet moan and sucked gently on his bottom lip.

“Have you…ever made love…in the moonlight before?” Michael whimpered against her lips, shrugging off his jacket and balling it up in his fists before placing it under the back of her head like a pillow.

Sara readjusted herself along with the pillow and shifted under him, shaking her head just slightly. "Never. Have you?"

“What I did before you doesn’t matter anymore,” Michael smiled. “How about in the back of a truck?” he smirked, pushing himself up to straddle her hips and pulling his shirt up over his head.

Sara traced her fingers down the lines of his tattoos and smiled sweetly up at him. "What I did before you doesn't matter anymore."

Michael smirked down at her as he began to tug at the hem of her green sweater. “Well, it wasn’t in my truck so it doesn’t matter anyway,” he grinned smugly, dipping his head to plant an open mouthed kiss to her exposed belly.

"Michael. . ." Sara let out a quiet moan and arched her hips up into him. "Nothing before you matters."

A small sense of pride fluttered around Michael’s chest and he grinned against her skin, following the bottom of her sweater with his mouth and his kisses as her pushed it further up her torso. “That sunset has nothing on you,” he whispered against the material of her bra before he kissed the top of her milky, smooth breast. “You’re absolutely gorgeous.”

Sara smiled softly and rolled her eyes back, reaching and pulling her sweater over her head. She shivered a little and laughed, "I'm glad at least one of us thinks so."

Michael nodded, sucking in a gulp of air when she removed her sweater and her bra clad bosom was exposed to his view. “I don’t think so. I know so,” he smiled confidently, ghosting his hands across her rib cage as he leant back down and pressed his mouth to hers.

"Mmm," Sara moaned into his mouth, moving her hands down to his jeans. "I love how you touch me, Michael."

“I love touching you, baby,” Michael whispered against her face, tickling her sides with his fingertips until he reached her waist. “These, have to go,” he smirked, slipping his fingers around the front of her pants and under the waistband slowly. He felt the soft, downy hair on her stomach stand to attention and he smiled even wider.

Sara smiled against his mouth, pushing his button through the hole and unzipping his pants. "I think we need to get rid of yours too, honey.”

Michael giggled against her smile, unbuttoning her pants and smoothing his hands inside of them, pushing them down her thighs as he did so. “Do you ever think…” he began, shuffling down her body and taking her pants with him. He discarded them to the back of the truck and began kissing his way back up her smooth, creamy legs. “…Do you ever think about where will be in ten years time?” he muttered against her skin, smoothing his hands over her legs.

"God, that's so long from now," Sara murmured, tossing her head back and smiling. "I don't know. Maybe with a baby?"

“Just one?” Michael murmured, tasting her thigh with his tongue. He pressed his hands to her thighs and gently pushed them open, moving in between them and kissing her damp panties. Her smell was intoxicating as he drifted into his nostrils and swirled around his senses, making him feel giddy and even more excited than before.

Sara groaned and tilted her head to the side, arching her hips just a bit. "Maybe two?"

“Maybe two…” Michael repeated her words in a low growl, gripping the edge of her panties and pulling them down her legs. He turned his head and pressed his lips to her inner thigh, panting a breath of hot air out onto her sex as he turned his head and repeated the gesture on the other thigh. “You know you can have as many as you want,” he whispered, feeling her tense underneath him when he flicked his tongue out over her clitoris. “Right, baby?”

"Mmm. . ." Sara murmured, grabbing onto the blanket under her and fluttering her eyes shut. "Baby. . . where do you see us in ten years?"

Michael kissed her one last time and lifted his head. “It doesn’t matter…” he shook his head, idly trailing his fingers over her entrance and watching her bit her bottom lip. “…As long as I’m with you,” he whispered, pushing a digit into her slippery core.

Sara groaned and tilted her head back, fluttering her eyes shut as he began to slowly stroke her. "Don't you. . . don't you want babies?"

Michael chuckled lightly and his breath condensed on her skin. He closed his eyes and lapped at her core as his fingers went to work. “Not that this exact moment in time…” he rasped, humming contently against her entrance. “God, Sara…you taste so good.”

"Mmm, baby," Sara whispered, fluttering her eyes open so she could watch him. "You make me feel so good."

“I intend to every day of your life, baby,” Michael murmured. He quickly pulled his finger from her and licked off her juices, gripped her hips with his flat palms and drove his tongue into her. The tip of it ran along the edge of her inner muscles and he nudged her aching clitoris with his nose.

"Michael," Sara murmured, closing her eyes again. "That feel so good. So, so good. . . I want to make you feel good too, baby."

Michael wiggled his tongue a little more forcefully and pulled her to him even more, burying his tongue in her as much as he could. When he absolutely had to breath he sighed and licked his lips hungrily. “I feel good, Sara. Trust me,” he smirked, crawling back up over her body to recapture her mouth with his. His hand snaked between their bodies and he slicked his fingers across her entrance, coating them in more of her fluids and rubbing her clitoris. “I feel good.”

Sara smiled against his mouth and began to slowly push his jeans down over his hips. When he had wiggled out of them, she hooked a finger in his boxers. "Make love to me, Michael?"

Michael smoothed his hand over hers and pushed down his boxers, kicking them off and letting them rest on her pants and panties. He didn’t need another invitation. Michel took himself in his hand, lubricating himself with some of Sara’s premature ejaculate and positioned himself at her entrance. “You never have to ask,” he breathed, pressing his lips firmly to his while he arched his hips and buried himself inside of her.

Sara groaned as he entered her and placed a soft kiss to his mouth. She smiled up at him, arching her hips against his. "You have no idea how in love with you I am."

Michael began to move, letting out a pant and a breathy growl. “Word cannot describe how much I love you,” Michael whimpered, pressing her face between his hands and sucking on her bottom lip slowly.

Sara wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer to her, hooking her leg over his. She let out a soft moan. "Michael. . ."

Michael’s hands slid down her body, tickling at the curve of her breasts as he did so and finally resting on her hips. His fingers dug into the soft skin, leaving invisible bruises in their wake each time he thrust into her agonisingly slowly. Sweet and slow was what Michael did best and Sara loved it. So far his thrusts had been shallow with little force but Michael decided to throw in a small surprise and lifted his hips as he entered her and bumped her clitoris with his pubic bone.

Sara tilted her head back, pulling his body closer to hers. She fluttered her eyes open and pressed her forehead to his, biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out. "Oh, Michael. . ."

“Sara…” Michael struggled to say, his own orgasm almost upon him. “…We are in the middle of nowhere…” he panted against her face, rolling his forehead sideways on hers and driving into her deeper and harder. “No one is going to hear you scream my name,” he smirked, licking his lips.

Sara let out a breathy laugh and stilled underneath him as her orgasm hit her. She let out a cry, letting her head fall back against the blanket and squeezed her eyes shut. "Michael, Michael, Michael. . ."

“Yeah...Yeah…Yeah…” Michael panted, unable to hold in his climax anymore. “Oh, Sara…” he rasped, burying his face under the tilted jaw and sucking at the skin on her neck as he came. He had to close his eyes because his vision disappeared anyway and he pressed his hand to the side of her face, holding her to him as he kissed her. A few shallow thrusts later and he was slowing his pace, bringing her down from her ecstasy calmly and with a gentle sigh.

Sara smiled softly, gently brushing her fingertips over the top of his head. She remained silent for a few moments. "Guess your truck is officially christened."

Michael laughed softly against her skin, pulling his head up to look down at her. “Only the outside,” he teased with a boyish grin. He reached over and unwrapped a rolled up blanket next to them, shaking it out awkwardly and throwing it over their bodies as he slipped from her and laid next to her. He pulled the blanket up and over her body, covering her from the cool night air and tangling his legs up in hers. “I love you,” he whispered down at her, propping his head up next to her.

"Do you?" Sara smiled at him lazily and rolled over on her side to face him. She traced a finger across his jaw line. "How much?"

Michael rolled his eyes upwards and pointed to the sky with his finger, waiting for her to follow his gaze. “As much as the heavens would miss the stars should they all burn away,” he breathed.

Sara turned and gave him a look, biting gently on her bottom lip. "Scofield, you're so corny."

“If you think so, we never have to have sex again,” he smirked, titling his head at her and arching an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t want sex with a corny man, would you?”

Sara smiled and leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. "I just want sex with you, Scofield." She relaxed back down. "Speaking of which, who have you made love to under the stars besides me?"

Michael frowned at her, eyeing her suspiciously with a narrow gaze. He smiled a lop sided grin and slid his foot up and down her bare leg. “I don’t remember saying I had,” he smiled coyly.

Sara rolled her eyes and leaned over, brushing her fingertips across his bare chest. "You insinuated it. I bet she wasn't as pretty as me."

“Obviously,” Michael exaggerated. “She didn’t mean anything,” he shrugged. There was a pause and then he looked back up to the stars. “It was prom night…” he said idly.

"Wow," Sara murmured, linking her hands on her stomach. She glanced over at him. "Somebody lost his virginity at a young age."

Michael smiled and watched a shooting star. “I was eighteen that night…” Michael frowned. “You were older?”

Sara licked her bottom lip, following his eyes to the sky. "I was younger."

Michael looked down at her quickly with a surprised expression. “You were?” He said softly.

Sara shifted under the blanket, nodding slowly before she answered him. "Sixteen."

“Wow, sixteen,” Michael said softly, linking his hands in hers. “And, I never said I lost my virginity on prom night. I just said I was eighteen,” Michael smirked, looking back to the stars.

Sara laughed quietly, glancing over at him. "So then when did you lose your virginity?"

Michael shook his head and laughed, shifting his weight. “I…No, you’ll laugh at me,” he blushed.

Sara shook her head and looked over at him. Their sexual pasts weren't something that came up, ever. She had always figured it was because Michael was slightly uncomfortable with hers. "I'll tell you if you tell me?"

“You’ve told me,” he chuckled. “You were sixteen,” he smiled.

Sara rolled her eyes and looked over at him. "I mean, tell me how it happened."

Michael nodded in agreement and licked his lips. He closed his eyes and laughed softly. “Jennifer Chase. She was older then me. My professor actually…” he blushed, pinching his eyes closed. “…It was after class one day. One her desk. And I can’t believe I am telling you this,” he laughed.

"Michael Scofield!" Sara sat up, holding her blanket to her chest. Her mouth hung open a bit. "I can not believe that!"

“You don’t believe me?” he smirked up at her, falling onto his back and crossing his hands under his head. “Fine,” he scrunched up his face and looked back up to the sky. “Don’t believe me,” he grinned.

"I believe you," Sara smirked. "I don't think you'd lie . . . but. Wow, Michael. Does Lincoln know?"

“Nooooooooo!” Michael laughed hard, his body shuddering on the truck. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he smirked.

Sara laid back down, feeling a twinge of jealousy in the pit of her stomach. She didn't like it. "Was she good?"

Michael smiled and looked at her with an arched eyebrow. “Oh my god,” he grinned boyishly, shifting sideways and propping his head up on his elbow again. He pointed at her accusingly. “You’re jealous of my professor!” he teased, laughing again.

Sara's mouth fell open. "I am not jealous! I am not." She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. "I am not." She crossed her arms in front of her.

“Sure,” Michael nodded at her, biting his tongue between his teeth. He shook his head and shrugged. “I didn’t know if she was good or not. It was my first time and it wasn’t that great for me,” he frowned, remembering. “She was…kinky.”

Sara sat up again, her mouth falling open. "Michael. . . you had kinky sex your first time?" She laid back down. "I can't even process this."

“I didn’t!” he objected. “She hurt me,” he chuckled. “I didn’t want to have sex ever again.”

Sara arched an eyebrow and looked at him. "Aww, she hurt you, baby?"

Michael pouted up his bottom lip and widened his eyes like a puppy dog. “Mmm hmm,” he sounded in his throat. “And I was twenty two,” he admitted shyly. “It was my final year and she had been flirting with me for the entire course. My room mate told me to go for it so when I did, I beat the crap out of him afterwards,” he laughed, scratching the back of his head lightly. “We don’t talk so much now.”

"Ohh, baby," Sara couldn't help but laugh. She rolled over and rubbed her hand over his head, moving it down to his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. "My poor, sweet Michael."

“Indeed,” he managed to whisper before their lips met. He kissed her softly, trailing his tongue over her bottom lip. “So, how about you? Sixteen huh?”

Sara opened her mouth, drawing him further into the kiss. She pulled away and nodded. "Sixteen. Do you want to buy me dinner?"

“That’s all I get? Sixteen? After I told you my professor practically broke my manhood?” He smirked at her, pulling out of the kiss.

Sara moved her mouth down to his neck, nibbling gently on his skin. "I'm glad you're not broke."

Michael fluttered his eyes closed and swallowed hard. His hand came up around her body and he splayed his fingers out over her shoulders. “You don’t want to tell me, do you?”

Sara leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. "Promise you won't get upset?"

“I promise,” Michael smiled, kissing her again quickly. He took her hand in his and lifted it to her lips, kissing her knuckles softly and then resting his hand over hers on his chest. “You married me. Not him.”

Sara brought her free hand up to his face and trailed her fingertips down his cheeks. "It wasn't too long after my mom died. I started hanging out with this girl, Amy, who had an older brother at Loyola. One night we went to a frat party, and I drank for the first time."

“Loyola?” Michael sounded surprised. He could have run into Sara in Chicago at any time and the fact that he had never done so was really frustrating sometimes. He wished they hadn’t met in Fox River, but he was glad they had. “Go on,” he said softly.

"Loyola. Too bad you weren't a frat boy," Sara whispered, dancing her fingers up his arm. "I met this guy. . . and I just felt empty, you know? And he was older and cute and. . . in college. He said I'd like it."

Michael’s heart tugged. “Said you’d like what?” He growled a little, suspecting she meant more than just sex. “Did he hurt you?”

"No, baby," Sara said quickly, sitting up a little and placing her hand on his arm. "No. I knew what I was doing. He was just a little rough, and it was my first time, and I didn't like it." She shrugged a little and gave Michael a soft smile.

Michael returned her smile, reaching up to caress her cheek with his thumb. “We both had really sucky first times then,” he nodded with a small laugh. “However, you were probably having great sex by the time I was…you know. The human rodeo bull.”

Sara couldn't stop the giggle that escaped and she shook her head. "Oh, Michael. I didn't know what great sex was until you."

“I’m great sex?” Michael smirked smugly. He rolled his eyes and shifted on the truck bed, inhaling deeply. “I’m sure my last girlfriend is really jealous. Then again. She must have thought I was something,” he shrugged, looking back up to the twinkling blackness again. “She stayed around for six years.”

Sara sat up again, giving him a look. She tilted her head. She had always been under the impression that Michael had never been with anyone seriously until her. "Six years?"

“That wasn’t in my prison file?” he teased softly. “It was an on and off thing. Like friends with benefits?” he tested the phrase on his tongue and then realised how wrong it sounded. And how much of a man whore it made him. “She decided to get married when we were twenty eight. And then there was the whole conspiracy thing. I didn’t really have much sex in prison,” he laughed softly then looked at her with an raised eyebrow. “Not through lack of trying. The prison doctor just wouldn’t give it up,” he smirked.

"Not much sex in prison?" Sara arched an eyebrow and gave him a look. "Not much?" She hesitated. "Wow, six years was a long time. Was it ever serious?"

Michael sighed. “Okay, no sex in prison. Undressing you with my eyes every day doesn’t count I take it?” He grinned and rested his hand to his chest, staring idly into the sky. “It was never serious for her,” he said sadly with a frown. “I was naïve. I thought she loved me until one day she just thanked me told me she was getting married,” he sighed again, silently cursing her in his mind. “She used me,” he chuckled with realisation. “And I didn’t even know.”

Sara bit her bottom lip and moved to lean against the side of the bed, keeping the blanket wrapped around her. "You were in love with her."

Michael watched her move and frowned a little confused. “I loved her but I wasn’t in love with her,” he said softly, looking over at her sadly. “It wasn’t real, Sara. We’re real. I love you and I am in love with you,” he nodded, shuffling towards her and cupping her face in his hands. He offered her a half smile. “I am so far in love with you I couldn’t even get out if I tried.”

"Is it weird for you? To think about me with other guys?" She leaned into him and pressed a soft kiss into his mouth. "Don't ever try to get out okay?"

“I promise. Never,” he shook his head and kissed her again. “It’s weird,” he admitted, looking down to his lap. “I never thought you’d have more sexual partners than me and my two,” he chuckled. “But then again, you’re way prettier than me,” he smirked.

Sara tilted her head to the side and gave him a look. She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "I wish I had so few, Michael. I do."

Michael lifted her hands in his and fiddled with her fingers, kissing them softly. “Would you believe me if I told you it doesn’t matter to me? What’s done is done.”

"The past doesn't matter," Sara agreed softly. "If I hadn't made all the mistake I did, I wouldn't have ended up in Fox River. So thank God I did."

“I would have still found you,” Michael smiled confidently, turning her hand over and pressing his lips to her open palm. “I will always find you,” he closed his eyes and held her hand to his cheek.

"You would have found me, huh?" Sara teased, smiling at him. "Who would have left that door open for you then, Scofield?"

Michael laughed at her and shook his head, falling forward and resting his forehead on hers. “Probably some damn ugly doctor name Russell,” he laughed, holding her head to his with his long fingers tangled in her hair. He let out soft sigh through his smile. “God, I love you so much. Nothing ever mattered to me. Only you.”

Sara felt her eyes prick with tears and she glanced down. She smiled softly before looking up at him, a single tear tracing down her cheek. "I wouldn't change a thing. Not one thing."

Michael pulled her face to his, kissing her cheek softly and wiping away her tear with his lips. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered quickly before closing his eyes and seizing her lips in a feverish kiss. It was hungry and wanton and a soft groan escaped his throat and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his body, falling backward and landing on the truck with a bump.

Sara smiled, getting comfortable on top of him and meeting his mouth for another long kiss. "You want it again? Before you buy me dinner?"

Michael chuckled and smoothed his hands down the side of her naked body. “You’re right. We must go to dinner,” he rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Control yourself, Scofield,” he teased, tapping his fingertips on her bare thighs.

Sara rolled off of him and gave him a look. "Talkin' to yourself there, buddy?" She reached for her panties and slid them on. "God, I'm starved."

Michael looked at his watch and sat up, looking around for his boxers. “You realise, I haven’t booked anything. Anywhere,” he admitted, puling his boxers on under the blanket. “Well, there is this one thing I did book. But we are a little underdressed and we’d be two hours early,” he laughed, standing up in the back of his truck and pulling his jeans up. “You’ve heard of the Ambria, right?” He teased with a smirk, knowing it was one of the most romantic and expensive restaurants in Chicago.

"Michael!" Sara yanked her shirt over her head. "You didn't. . . we can't afford that."

Michael grinned at her annoyance and dropped to his knees, fishing around next to her for his shirt. He pulled it out from under her and gave her a quick kiss. “You’re so cute when you are mad at me,” he smiled, pulling his shirt over his head.

Sara gave him a look and rolled her eyes, cracking a smile. She leaned in for another kiss, cupping his face in her hands. "I'm only ordering a salad."

“Don’t,” Michael almost begged her. “That’s as expensive as a full blown course!” he giggled, falling onto his back and pulling his sneakers on with a soft grumbling noise. When he was done he fell back, relaxing on the blanket again with a sigh. “Why are the stars to mesmerizing?”

Sara smiled and moved over to him, straddling his waist. She leaned over him, smiling down at him and letting her hair fan around them. "As mesmerizing as me?"

Michael reached up and closed his hands around her wrists on either side of his head, holding her there while he grinned up at her. “What stars?” he whispered through his smile, leaning up to meet her lips for another long, slow kiss.

Sara kissed him back, then pulled away, placing a kiss to the tip of his nose. "Scofield, take me home to change." She paused. "Has a girl ever called you Mikey?"

Michael cleared his throat and swallowed hard as he spoke. “Mikey?” he smiled, amused. “No, actually. Michael, Mike…” he paused, quirking his eyebrow at her. “Oh God, oh yeah right there…” he teased, winking at her. “Never Mikey, why?”

"Just wondered." Sara shrugged and rolled off of him, hopping down from the truck. "So this ex of yours. Did you want to marry her?"

Michael jumped down from the truck, leaving the blanket and strewn salad plates in the truck out of the box. “No,” he admitted, shutting the tailgate with a bang. He secured it and walked around the truck, getting into the driver’s seat and padding his jacket pockets for his keys. “I never wanted to get married until I met you.”

Sara smiled over at him, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Did you ever think about having babies with anyone?"

Michael stuck the key into the ignition and the lights illuminated the desolate road before him at the same time as the engine sparked to life. He shook his head, letting the engine tick over while he reclined in the seat. “No.”

Sara leaned her head against the seat, keeping her face facing Michael. "Do you want us to have kids, Michael?"

Michael let his head fall back against the headrest and he rolled it so he was facing her. He offered her a smile, plucked her hand from her lap and kissed the back of it before dropping them both to his lap. “Yes. I want you to have my children.”

"I can't wait to see you holding our babies," Sara whispered, smiling over at him. "Not like I want babies right this second, but someday. You're going to be amazing, Michael."

Michael smiled proudly and leant forward again to grasp at the steering wheel. “You are going to be much better. I’ll probably spoil them rotten and give them buckets of candy,” he laughed, putting the truck in drive and letting it join the main path again. “Scofield children will have everything I never did, even if I die giving it to them,” he added seriously.

"You don't think I want the same thing?" Sara asked softly, tilting her head to the side. "I can't wait to be the mom I never had. I will be there for my kids, no matter what they need."

Michael pulled his eyes off the road for a second to smile at her. She was beautiful, basking in the moonlight that flooded the cab of the truck through her window. “We have very lucky children,” he said softly, returning his gaze to the road but not losing his smile.


	12. Chapter 12

Sara pushed her paperwork aside, and glanced around the bedroom. She was bored. Michael was downstairs in his office, drawing up some plans that she knew was important. She thought he might not want to be bothered, but then decided it didn't really matter and hurried downstairs. Knocking gently on the door, she stuck her head into his office.

Michael looked up from his blueprints surprised to see Sara in his office. His glasses had slid down the bridge of his nose and the black frames sat near its tip and Michael peered over the top of them with a smile. "Hey, what's up?" he asked softly, turning his attention back to his drawing.

Sara shook her head slowly, getting lost in how adorably dorky the motion of him scrunching up his nose to scoot his glasses back up was. She loved his glasses, and secretly wished he would wear them more. Instead, he just complained about them. She walked slowly over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "How's it going?"

Michael's body lurched forward a tad when she leant against him and he dropped his pencil to smooth his hand over her forearm. He sat back in his chair, pushing his glasses back up his nose with his finger and letting out a puff of air. "It's not," he said light heartedly. Even though his work was going all wrong, and the blueprints would need lots of work, he wasn't at all displeased.

"It looks good to me," Sara said encouragingly, as she glanced down at the blueprints. In all actuality, she couldn't tell what was going on at all. But Michael was good at what he did. She kissed him, "Break time?"

Michael lolled his head sideways and kissed her back slowly. "Sure, why not," he smiled, glaring at the blueprints once more. He lifted his hand to his face, gripping the arm of his glasses and pulling them from his face and folding them in one hand. He set them on his desk and swung his chair around so he could stand and followed Sara towards the door. "Are you making me lunch?" he coaxed gently.

"I like your glasses," Sara called over her shoulder, changing her direction and heading towards the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and stared inside for a few moments before shutting it and turning back to him. "What would you like for lunch?"

"I'll have whatever you're having," Michael said, leaving her in the kitchen while he moved back to the lounge. "And my glasses are hideous," he told her over his shoulder as he padded through the lounge barefoot. He fell backwards onto the couch with a grunt and picked up his half read novel off the coffee table. "Only you like them," he called out to her with a smile.

"I don't know why you don't like them," Sara called back, opening the freezer and staring in it for a moment. She finally selected a frozen pizza and removed it from the box before tossing it in the oven. She walked slowly back into the lounge, smirking at him. "You look so sexy in them."

Michael chuckled to himself and shook his head. "You say that because you've never had glasses," he told her. "You've never been taunted."

Sara sank down next to him on the couch, laying her head on his shoulder. "Who taunted you?"

Michael shrugged, closing his novel over his thumb to preserve his page. "Just kids at school," he said. "Kids can be so cruel," he smiled at her and reopened his book. "I'm not wearing them in bed," he smirked.

"I bet I could convince you," Sara teased, leaning over him and brushing her lips over his neck. She moved back to her own section of the couch, gathering her hair in her hands and piling it on top of her head. "I think I'm going to cut my hair."

"Cut your hair?" Michael's head snapped towards her with a shocked expression. "Why?"

"It's so long," Sara rolled her eyes and let it fall, sighing as it spilled down over her shoulders. She fingered one of the soft curls, shrugging. "It hasn't been short in awhile."

"But..." Michael protested, reaching out to stroke her soft, ruddy curls. "...I like it long," he said with a pout.

Sara rolled her eyes again, pushing him gently away. "Michael, if I spend more than 20 minutes messing with my hair, you complain." She wrinkled her nose. "Are you being serious?"  
"Of course!" he sang loudly. "And I like it red...please don't dye it again," he pursed his bottom lip and leant towards her. "Please?" he begged, looking up at her with his best Scofield puppy dog eyes.

"Excuse me?" Sara's mouth fell open in mock shock. She nudged him gently. "Weren't you the one who told me I was just as beautiful when it was dark and short? That I was just as gorgeous as I was when it was like this?" She ran her fingers through her hair again. "Were you just playing me, Scofield?"

"You were," he agreed. "But you are even more beautiful with it long...and red...and so, so soft..." he nuzzled his face into her loose curls, smiling when he found her neck through the cascade and kissing it gently.

A quiet giggle escaped Sara's mouth as Michael's lips found her neck. She closed her eyes and let out a soft moan. She lowered her voice to a sing-song tone, "Why do you love me?"

Michael pulled his lips from Sara's skin and frowned at her playfully. "Why do I love you...hmmm..." he mused, tapping one of his fingers to his closed lips. "Well..." he began, looking down at her with a smile. "...you're smart, you're funny, you're unbelievably good in bed..." he paused, letting her bask in his compliments. "...you like my glasses..." he added coyly.

"I love your glasses. Your sexy, sexy glasses," Sara teased, brushing her lips against his. She smirked up at him, "And you're damn right I'm good in bed. The best you've ever had?"

"Ab-so-lutely," he sang, pressing his lips to hers again. "Without a shadow of a doubt."

Sara laughed softly, smiling so wide it was hard to kiss him. "What do you think our best sex ever was?"

"We’ve had best ever sex?" he teased. "I thought every time was the best for you...you always tell me I am amazing," he smirked.

"Oh, that's right!" Sara leaned away from him and crossed her arms. She nodded slowly, "We're good every time. It's that other lover of mine that's pretty hit or miss."

Michael narrowed his eyes at her and rolled in tongue between his teeth. "Other lover, eh?" he chimed. "Where do I get one of those?" he grinned. "Oh wait," he slapped himself on the forehead lightly. "I could get another lover by just leaving the house and flashing my sexy glasses to the nearest woman." He arched an eyebrow.

"You know, you act like you're joking, but I'm pretty sure that statement is correct. I see how people look at us when we're out. They have no idea how someone like me managed to snag someone like you," Sara tilted her head and looked and him seriously. "You have no idea how incredibly sexy you are, do you?"

"Not a clue," he shook his head. "It's because I wear glasses, you know...alters my appearance when I look in the mirror," he grinned. "And people don't notice me, Sara, they notice you...and your long, silky, hot red hair..." Michael couldn't resist running his fingers through it again.

Sara laughed softly, pressing her lips to his for a long, slow kiss. "You're too good to me, you know that? You love me too much."

"I don't love you enough," Michael told her firmly, pressing his finger to the end of her nose playfully. "What kind of a woman are you anyway...only wanting sex, two...three times a day?" He gave her a boyish wink.

Sara pushed him down against the couch, spreading her body over his. She grinned coyly, "Baby, I'd be a happy woman if we never got out of bed."

"But," Michael told her with a click of his tongue and a point of his finger. "We'd never go to work and then end up with no bed to...do it in," he quirked an eyebrow and his smile tugged up at the corners. He pressed his lips to hers and inhaled her scent, cinnamon and apple filling his senses. "Baby..." he said out of the side of his mouth because their lips were still pressed together. "...I think the pizza is done.”

Sara sighed and slid off him, making her way back into the kitchen. She tossed him a look over her shoulder, "If I didn't know better I'd think you just didn't want my body, Mr. Scofield."

Michael watched her go. The way she swayed her hips and shot him a sexy glance over her shoulder was very alluring. "Oh baby, you know I want your body all the time," he called after her.

Sara took the pizza out of the oven and put a few pieces on a plate, cursing under her breath when she burnt herself. She carried the plate back into the living room and handed it to Michael. "Don't spill."

He let his hand linger on hers for a little longer than expected and he brushed his lips over her knuckles. "Thanks, baby," he said sincerely, taking the plate from her with a chuckle. "How do you spill pizza?" he teased.

"I'm sure you could find a way," Sara teased, settling herself back down next to him. She gave him a sweet smile. "I like days you don't work."

"Except..." Michael took another bite of his pizza, sucking in cold air to cool his mouth. "...I am still working," he said sadly. "Did you not see my glasses?" he winked.

Sara laughed softly at the mention of his glasses. "Yes, but I don't mind when you work at home." She drew a lazy circle on his knee. "At least then you're with me."

Michael finished his first slice of pizza and swallowed the doughy lump down his throat. "I could take you to work with me," he offered. "I hear hot, red-headed wives are the next big accessory," he grinned.

Sara arched an eyebrow, blowing him a kiss. "I'd look hot perched on the edge of your desk, wouldn't I?" She paused then asked, "Have you ever had sex at work?"

"No!" he said quickly followed by a surprised laugh. "Engineering is a very male orientated field of expertise," he smiled before looking at her more closely. "You have though, haven't you?" he teased.

Sara scrunched her nose up at him, before glancing down at her lap, trying to figure out how to answer the question. Finally, she glanced up at him and shrugged. "Sorry. I can't remember sex before you."

"Good," Michael whispered smugly, taking another bite of his second slice that was nearly gone. "What are we doing here? Playing a game of awkward questions?" he arched an eyebrow and took the last bite of pizza.

"Awkward questions?" Sara shrugged. "You realize I didn't get any of that, right?" She leaned back against the pillows. "Truth or dare. Call it whatever you will."

Michael swallowed his last mouth full and leant forward to place the plate on the top on the coffee table with a ceramic echo. "Truth or dare?" he queried, sitting back against the bouncy cushions and smirking at her.

"Are you asking me?" Sara arched an eyebrow, placing her feet in her lap. "Or are you just making a suggestion?"

"What?" Michael laughed. "I'm confused...you confused me!" he sang teasingly. "Wait..." he bolted from the couch and headed back down the hall to his office. He grabbed his glasses, opened them as he walked back and placed them on as he sat back down. "There. Now, you suggested playing truth or dare...so let's go."

Sara smirked as he sat across from her, his glasses on. "You're not gonna distract me." She tilted her head, "Truth or dare?"

Michael smirked at her, wishing his subtle attempt at distraction had been less obvious than having to go get his glasses. "Dare," he challenged.

"I dare you. . ." Sara thought carefully, tapping her finger playfully against her chin. "To sleep naked tonight?"

"Pfft!" Michael hissed against his lips and laughed. "Easy. Truth or Dare?" he smirked.

Sara eyed him carefully and then shrugged. "Truth."

"Hmmm..." Michael pondered, pulling what could have only been described as a thinking face. "Am I really the best you've ever had?" He grinned but stopped her answer quickly. "And in anticipation of your foreseen answer...yes, it matters to me," he smiled.

Sara reached over, running her hand across his knee. "You're the best I've ever had. In every single way. About every single thing."

Michael felt his breath leave him and his heart swelled in his chest. "That's why you married me, right?" he winked and dropped his hand so it covered hers on his knee.

"One question at a time, Scofield. No cheating," Sara smirked. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

Sara grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch, tossing it over herself. "What's your favourite thing about me?"

"I can't pick just one thing," Michael protested weakly. He helped her pull the blanket up over her shoulders and rearranged himself on the couch so that he was laying with his head in her lap. "I really, really like your hair," he smiled up at her. "And the way you scream my name with you come...but wow, your hair," he breathed with a smirk.

Sara ran her hand through her hair and rolled her eyes. "Okay, I get your point. I won't cut it."

“Truth or dare?” Michael whispered, locking his fingers together and resting them to his chest.

Sara gave him a playful grin. "Dare!"

"'Bout time! Michael muttered, sitting himself back up next to her. "I dare you to kiss me," he grinned boyishly at her.

Sara laughed and leaned over him, placing a chaste kiss to his lips. She settled herself down next to him and got comfortable. "How about you?"

"Dare," he whispered ghostly like a kid at Halloween.

"I dare you. . ." Sara drawled slowly, tugging on his shirt. "To take this off."

Michael quirked an eyebrow at her. "Is that it?" he laughed. "’Cos you know, I’d take it off for you anytime honey."

"Would you?" Sara smirked, leaning off of him so he could remove his shirt. "I'll remember that at your boss's next dinner party."

A low gargle of a laugh rumbled from Michael's chest as he leant forward, reached behind his head and grasped the material of his shirt in his hands. He pulled at it, letting it slide up his back and over his head. He lay back with a contented sigh and held his shirt away from her an arms length. "You can't have this though," he warned playfully. "You might sell it on eBay or something," he joked. "Your turn..."

Sara settled back down, resting her cheek against his inky chest. "Truth. Just because I want to remain clothed."

Michael repositioned his glasses on his face and draped an arm around her shoulder, holding her to his chest. "Do you really like the tattoo?" he asked with an air of seriousness.

"I love the tattoo," Sara told him seriously, running her fingers over his inky lines. "I think it's sexy, and I think it's a part of who you are." She paused. "I'm thinking about getting one."

"What?" he craned his neck to look down at her. "Nooooooooo," he shook his head with a nervous laugh.

Sara leaned up, looking at him. "Really? You don't want me to get one?"

"Well..." he imagined Sara with a tattoo in the most intimate of places and a smile crept across his lips. "...Where would you get it? And what would it be?"

Sara smiled and shifted on him. She lifted up her shirt and pulled her pants down just slightly, pointing to her hip. "I was thinking a tiny little crane right there?"

"A crane?" Michael asked surprised by her sudden revelation. "Really?" he asked, needing her to confirm it one more time. "You don't think I’ve got enough tattoos for both of us?"

"I won't do it if you don't want me to," Sara shrugged, settling back down on him. She brushed her fingers along his chest. "But you're under my skin, Scofield. Might as well prove it."

"I can't stop you if that's what you want," Michael said slowly, almost unsure of his answer. He was telling Sara he was okay with her getting a tattoo but he didn't really know how he felt about it. He had got them after so much planning and consideration that he wasn't sure what to say other than supporting her. "I'd still love you the same," he smiled down at her.

Sara laughed, pressing a kiss to his chest. "I hope you'd still love me the same." She continued to follow the lines on his chest. "I wish you were okay with these, Michael."

Michael looked down at his chest and sighed. "I have to be...could you imagine the scar if I wanted them removed?" he chuckled. "I don't dislike them really," he admitted with a toss of his hand. "They don't really go with the glasses though," he smiled at her, scrunching his nose and making the black frames move up his face.

Sara laughed and rolled over so she was laying on top of him. She got herself comfortable before pressing a kiss to his chest, his collarbone, then the corner of his mouth. "I think they go very well together."

The smile on Michael's face widened and his hands roamed over her body lazily. "You know, if I didn't know better..." he breathed, rolling his head to the side as she kissed his neck. "...I'd say you were in love with my glasses," he giggled, reaching up and pulling them from his face. He tossed them onto the coffee table and they landed with a clatter.

Sara leaned back and gave him a look as he tossed his glasses away. She sat up so she was straddling his waist, and glanced down at him, smirking, "Well, now I'm not turned on anymore."

Michael laughed at her and sat up, pressing himself into her body and seizing her lips in a powerful kiss. "Good," he said quickly with a wiggle of his eyebrows. "Because..." he swiveled his wrist and looked at the time. "...I have to get back to work."

"No," Sara shook her head and wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed him softly, then stuck out her bottom lip. "What if I don't want you to work anymore today?"

Michael tried to stand with Sara gripping to his body like she never wanted to let go. He held her to him and bent down to retrieve his glasses from the table with a wobbly stance. "You have work too," he reminded her, walking towards his office with her dangling from his body. "The quicker we get it done...the quicker we can get you done," he grinned, smacking her behind playfully.

Sara laughed softly, finally releasing him from her grip. "Fine," Sara shrugged. "But you'll be sorry if I'm not turned on anymore tonight. Especially with you having to sleep naked and everything."

Michael shook his head, put his glasses back on and gave her a wink before disappearing into his office.


	13. Chapter 13

Michael mumbled in his sleep and rolled onto his back. His eyebrows knitted together and his eyes flickered beneath their lids. Tiny beads of sweat began to form on his brow, and he swallowed an obstruction in his throat. “Sara…” he whimpered, his voice barely audible in the still of the night. His legs twitched and his hand clutched at the sheeting that pooled around his waist against his bare tattooed flesh. Suddenly, with a gasp of air, Michael sat bolt upright in bed, his wide eyes scanning the darkness of his surroundings. They found Sara, sleeping in a peaceful slumber beside him and his racing heartbeat began to resign. He swallowed again but his mouth was dry and he moved to swing his legs over the edge of the bed, a job made painful by the fact he had a raging erection in his thin cotton pants. He looked at his crotch confused while he rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his sweaty palms.

Sara stirred in the bed, letting out a low groan as her eyes fluttered half open. It took her a moment to get a bearing on her surrounding, and then she saw Michael, sitting on the edge of the bed. She glanced to the clock and yawned. "Baby?"

“It’s ok,” Michael whispered, not turning to look at her. His breathing was still a little rapid and he could feel the sweat rolling down his spine. “I’m fine,” he assured her rubbing his shaky hand over his brow.

"Are you sure?" Sara whispered, reaching over to rub his back. Memories of their first nights together resurfaced. "Did you have a nightmare? Fox River?"

Desperate to hide his arousal in the dark, Michael jumped to his feet when Sara touched him. “I said I’m fine. It was just a bad dream,” he murmured as he padded around the bed to the bathroom. “Go back to sleep,” he told her sweetly.

Sara thought about following him for a moment, but in the end, sleep won out. It had been a long day at the hospital, and it was going to be another long one. Sighing, she quickly fell back asleep.

Michael gently closed the bathroom door behind him when he entered and leant against the cold wood. He let his back stick to it and closed his eyes, rested the back of his head to the door and willed away his erection. He shifted on his feet, silently begging it to disappear but in the end, he had to take a cold shower to force it away. When he dried himself off and stepped from the dark bathroom, he could hear the faint snoring from Sara but she did not stir. Michael picked up his pillow and slipped from the room silently, settling for the rest of the night on their couch.

Sara awoke the next morning early, rolling over and lazily reaching for Michael. When her hand hit nothing but an empty bed, she let out a tired groan and opened her eyes. Glancing around the bedroom for a moment, she sighed and went off in search of him.

Michael groaned when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs, still unable to miss the creaky few steps they had discovered on the staircase. He frowned but did not open his eyes. He was shattered. He had got almost no sleep because every time he closed his eyes all he could see was his nightmare played out in heart wrenching three dimensional horror. He shifted on the couch, letting his aching body roll over a tad and give his painful hip some rest from his bodyweight. He pulled the blanket up to his naked torso and shivered a little.

Sara paused when she saw him on the couch, eyes closed. Moving towards him, she knelt on the ground beside the couch, running her fingers over his torso. When his eyes opened she gave him a concerned look, "Are you okay?"

Michael let his eyes flutter open slowly and he blinked a few times. He was thankful it was daylight, and he was thankful Sara was waking him up with a gentle caress and not pained screams. He inhaled deeply and stretched his legs, his bare feet poking out of the end of the blanket. He nodded to her, snaked a hand out of his blanket comfort and pulled her hand back into the warmth radiated by his skin. “I love you,” he breathed with a smile, pressing her hand to his heart under the blanket and scratching his head against the pillow.

"I love you," Sara returned, leaning down and brushing her lips across his stubbly cheek. She laid her forehead on his, and moved her hand down further, slowly massaging his side. "My snoring keep you awake?"

Michael felt a low rumble of a laugh escape his throat. It was deep, raspy and changed by sleep but still recognisable as a Michael laugh. He threw back the blanket and stretched his arms above his head. “No,” he shook his head gently, letting his arms fall back against the couch heavily. “I just couldn’t sleep. I came down to read and must have fallen asleep on the couch,” Michael shrugged, grabbing inspiration for his fabricated tale from his novel he had left on the coffee table. “Sorry,” he whispered, pressing his lips to hers after she pulled her face to his.

"I missed waking up next to you," Sara murmured. She kissed him again softly, then shifted next to him on the couch, snuggling under his blanket. She pressed her body to his and ran her fingertips over his torso, gently tracing the patterns on his chest she practically had memorized. "Did you have a nightmare last night?"

“Yeah,” Michael breathed, watching his hand as it intently stroked a strand of Sara’s un brushed hair from her brow. “But it’s okay, really,” he insisted with a smile.

Sara was used to Michael not wanting to deal with his nightmares and she nodded slowly, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to his neck. She moved her body closer to his, pressing her hips into his. "Got anywhere to be this morning?"

Michael felt his body warm against hers and he shifted his legs slightly so that one of his was pressed between her knees. “I have work this morning,” he said glumly, gently rubbing his bare foot over the smooth skin of her ankle. “Why? What did you have in mind?”

Sara trailed her hands down his chest, hooking one finger into his boxers. She kissed him again, then smiled sweetly. "A little morning wake up call?"

"Ah," Michael smirked, watching her hands find his waistband and gently slip her fingers into it teasingly. "For me, or you?" He licked his lips after his question, returning his gaze back to hers and quirking an eyebrow.

"For both of us," Sara breathed, slipping her hand the rest of the way into his boxers. She took him in her hand and met his mouth with hers, her tongue gently gliding across his lower lip.

Michael grinned against her lips and his breath left him when Sara began gently stroking him in his underwear. "I really don't think I have time," he bit out in a strained voice as Sara twisted her wrist and maybe him flinch with pleasure.

"There's always time," Sara told him in a sing-song voice. She pressed herself to him and smirked, "Don't you want me? Just a little?"

“Just a little is never enough,” Michael growled, slipping his hand down the cotton material of his t-shirt she was wearing and lifting the hem to find her skin underneath. He shot a glance between their bodies and then whipped his head back up to hers with a crooked grin. “This is a thong,” he stated elatedly as he fingered the thin scrap of material. “Is it my birthday?”

"No," Sara murmured, smirking up at him. "But we can pretend if that's what's gonna get you off." She increased her grip on his erection, just a bit, and picked up the speed of her stroking.

Michael hissed and the muscles in his abdomen tightened as she stroked him harder. "I don't need to pretend," he grunted, letting his lips find her neck and kissing up and along her jaw line. His fingers traced the edge of the thong and down the inside of her thigh before dragging themselves slowly over the hidden nerves between her legs. "Do you?" he whispered into her ear; applying a tiny bit more pressure to his stroking over the material that had started to become damp under his hand.

"No," Sara's breath caught in her throat. She lifted her leg, hooking it on the outside of Michael's, and thrust into his touch just a little. She flicked her thumb across his tip, and looked up at him, meeting his eyes. "I love you."

"I love you," Michael whispered, pulling his face back from her neck and watching her face change with pleasure as he slipped his hand inside her underwear and began slicking her juices across her opening. "Especially...when I do this..." he slipped his middle digit into her center, teasing the sensitive insides with the prospect of filling her. Sara moaned a little and her grip tightened on his erection, making him grit his teeth and let out a moan. He thrust into her hand gently and smirked. "...and you do that."

Sara laughed quietly, thrusting her hips and urging him in further. She pressed her face into his neck and bit playfully at the skin as she stroked him. "I love how you feel, Michael."

Michael let out a long held breath and let his head fall back so she could kiss his racing pulse. “You have…no idea…how much I love how you feel,” he panted as he fought off his release, wanting to savour the feel of Sara stroking him. He slipped his digit fully into her gently wiggling the tip and caressing the underside of her womb before beginning a thrusting motion. “And how you moan…” Michael lost his voice as he inserted a second finger and Sara’s groan silenced him.

"Oh, Michael," Sara moaned against his neck. She wrapped her leg around his tighter, allowing him to slip his fingers in further. She slowed down her pacing just a bit, stroking up and down the length of him over and over.

“Yeah…that’s it,” Michael growled, increasing his pace in and out of her and gently pressing his thumb to her clitoris.

"That feels so good," Sara whispered against his skin. His thumb pressed into her and she tossed back her head, letting out a loud moan. "Oh, yeah. Right there. Right . . . there."

Michael studied her face with awe and he pressed harder when she confirmed where she liked his hands. His hips jerked and thrust harder into her hand as she moaned, finding his imminent release futile. “Sara…” he moaned, pulling his hand from her aching core and wrenching her scrap of underwear away. “…I want to come inside of you.”

Sara quickly released him, scrambling in a hurry to remove his boxers. She tossed them to the side of the couch, then repositioned herself, sliding her leg over his once again. She took him in her hand and positioned him at her entrance. She thrust her hips, sinking onto him, and let out a low moan.

“Oh…god yeah,” Michael sighed, gripping behind Sara’s knee and pulling her closer to his body as they moved together on the couch. It didn’t take him long to find his orgasm because it was hidden just below the surface, waiting to be free. When the pit of his stomach fell away from him, Michael let out a guttural moan and thrust harder into Sara, capturing her lips with his and kissing her furiously.

Sara's mouth paused against Michael's as she came, her body stiffening. The waves rolled over to her and she let out a tiny gasp with each one. As she calmed down, she pressed her face into his neck. "Oh yeah."

Michael let a small laughed fall from his lips and he pressed them to Sara’s again. “Are you…happy now?” he panted with a smirk.

"I'm always happy," Sara whispered, nuzzling into his neck. She sighed happily, "Let's just lay here all day."

“I’d love to,” Michael groaned, pulling her body closer to his. “But you know we can’t,” he added sadly, pressing his lips to her forehead.

Sara stuck out her bottom lip and sighed. "Remember when we were newlyweds and you used to play hookey with me?" She sighed and rolled off of him. "Now I'm just your boring old wife."

"Boring? Old?" He objected with a shriek. "Sara, we just had sex on the couch," he frowned playfully. "That is not boring," he smirked.

Sara smiled and stretched. "I need a shower." She smirked at him. "I'm guessing you don't have time for one?"

Michael shook his head with a pout. "Sorry, baby. I'll have to go to work smelling like you," he winked.

 


	14. Chapter 14

"Sara?" Michael called as he entered their house. The front door opened into a hall that was white walled with a pine skirting board and proudly displayed a huge black and white photograph of Michael and Sara. It was taken by a studio and was candid, showing them rolling on a huge beanbag with Michael's arms around Sara who was giggling so hard. Michael paused to remember the day and smiled to himself, gently closing the door behind him.

Sara stopped what she was doing, and stuck her head out of Michael's office door, smiling down the hall at him. "I cleaned up for you!" She walked back into the office, proud of herself. Michael always complained she was too messy, so she had proved him wrong once and for all, tidying up his too-messy office.

Michael rested his keys to the kitchenette counter with a frown. "You did what?" he laughed nervously, peering down the adjoining hall and laying his jacket over the back of the couch as he passed it.

"I cleaned!" Sara called again from his office. She picked up a picture of them that rested on his desk and smiled at it before placing it back. "I cleaned your office."

Michael looked horrified as he took in the neatness of his office. Papers were stacked, pens were protruding from holders and his computer had been moved. In fact, Sara had moved the entire office around, and Michael stood in the doorway with his mouth agape and his eyes wide. "Did I ask you to?" He snapped suddenly.

Sara took a step back, taking in his appearance. She stepped towards him. "No, you didn't ask me to. You didn't have to. I just did it because I wanted to do something nice for you."

Michael halted her approach with a flat palm and looked away from her in disgust. "You shouldn't have..." he said quietly, pacing his office and biting at his thumb nail nervously. He fingered a sheet of paper that had been stacked with inappropriate paperwork and found a copy of his favourite book resting on his desk. "Sara, this is an original copy!" he roared, waving the frail book at her. "It can't leave the bookcase!" he insisted firmly, turning to replace the book only to discover the case had been moved too. He growled out loud and stalked to the opposite wall to replace the book behind its glass door.

"Michael, I. . . I'm sorry," Sara shook her head, watching him prowl around the study. She picked up a pen and tapped it against his desk, not sure what to say. "I can put it all back?"

Michael scoffed, his laughter leaving his nose and his mouth together. "Put it all back..." he said to himself scratching the back of his head lightly. Michael inhaled deeply, trying to cool the blood that boiled below his skin. "Put it all back!" he suddenly bellowed, grabbing his plastic desk tidy and throwing it against the wall where it shattered and paper went flying everywhere. He spun on his heels, covering his face with his hands and taking another long, breath that didn't help.

"Michael!" Sara took a step back and drew in her breath. She had just cleaned, and he was making a huge deal about it. "You need to calm down. Right now!"

"Calm down?!" he sneered, taking a step towards her with a sadistic laugh. "I can't fucking calm down!" he spat through clenched teeth as he grabbed his monitor and hurled in against the floor. He turned to face her again pointing a menacing finger. "You..." he paused, pulling his hand back into a clenched fist and slamming it against his desk. "You...change...everything!" he roared, lifting the edge of his desk and tipping it onto its side was an almighty crash.

Sara was at a loss for words. She thought about yelling at him, but kept herself calm, doing her best not to start shaking. "I cleaned your office, Michael. Christ. What happens when we have kids and one of them knocks books off the shelves or. . . or colours on your precious beige walls?" She lowered her voice. "I was trying to help."

"But it's not my office anymore, is it?" he spat, storming past her and rushing down the hall with long, determined strides. He wrenched his tie from his neck and he went, unbuttoning the top button under the illusion it would help him breathe. He stood in the lounge, disorientated by the spinning room from his high blood pressure and his overwhelming anger. He was absolutely livid and had to take himself from the room before he lashed out at something a little more precious to him.

Sara left the room, slamming the door behind her, chasing him down the hall. "Oh, excuse me. Your room. Your house. Your life. I'm never all the way in, am I?!"

Michael turned from her, gripping the sides of his closely shaven scalp with quivering hands. "You don't want to be all the way in," he sneered at her. "I don't even want to be in!" he cried, slamming his fist into the side of his head a few times before stepping from her again. His abuse on his own body was less important than the consequences of any abuse to Sara's. He grabbed his keys and wrenched the door open. "I have to go," he breathed quickly, pulling the door shut behind him. The photograph on the wall rattled on its hook and fell, a deep crack slicing through the glass when it hit the floor and reflecting a shadow of a line onto the image between the smiling couple.

Sara jumped a little as the photo fell onto the ground, cracking. She moved, picking it up and hauling it into the kitchen, setting it on the table to deal with later. She then moved back to Michael's office, attempting to clean the mess he had made. An hour passed before she became really worried. She sighed and called Linc, hoping Michael had shown up at his place, but he had not. After a brief explanation of what had happened, Linc gave Sara the address of a bar Michael had dragged him out of time and time again. Practically hanging up on him, Sara grabbed her car keys and quickly left.

Michael had calmed a little, but not much. His hands were still quivering when he ordered his fourth shot of straight Tennessee whiskey. He ordered no ice; he didn't want it tainted and watered down. He wanted to get drunk, as quickly as possible and forget his outburst. He had lost everything. His files were everywhere, scattered across the floor of the house and his computer was officially considered irreparable. He rested his tattooed elbow to the bar having rolled up his sleeves to just over them and a few men sitting near by to him slid off their stools having thought better of their company. Michael ignored them, lifting the glass to his lips and knocking back another burning quart of the orange liquid. "Another," he coughed at the barman.

Sara wandered into the bar, glancing around before spotting Michael. He was sitting at the bar, alone. At least there wasn't a skanky woman all over him if nothing else. As she made her way across the bar to him, she glanced down at her dark green sweater and ran her fingers through her ponytail. Her attire didn't exactly suit this bar. Sitting down on the stool next to him, she let out a quiet breath. "As someone who knows better, I'd like to point out that alcohol gives you answers to absolutely zero of your questions."

Michael’s eyes shifted sideways to Sara briefly before once again focusing on the inviting hotness of whiskey sitting at the bottom of a glass that sat on a square, red bar mat. Michael ignored her, lifted the glass to his lips and threw his head back, letting the liquid slide down his throat and warm the pit of his stomach. “Another,” he told the barman again with a harsh voice.

Sara glanced towards the barman, and nodded her head towards Michael. If he wanted to play games, she could too. "Give me two of what he's having." She waited a moment, and he sat two shot glasses down next to her. Picking one up, she waved it in Michael's direction. "To us?"

"You shouldn't be drinking," he said dryly, taking another shot and slamming his glass back down on the bar with an unchanged face.

"Why not?" Sara arched an eyebrow and twirled the drink around in her fingers. "You are. And you're a lot further ahead of me. Is this what we do, Michael? Do we get drunk when we fight?" She paused and leaned closer to him. "Should I go home and shoot up?"

Michael laughed and his body swayed. He motioned the barman for another refill and the short, balding man poured another shot for him. "Oh, here it comes," he slurred taking the shot. "Let's bring up drugs and Michael will just instantly soften," he leered at her before giving her an evil smile. "Not this time sweetheart," he said as he slid from his bar stool and slid his shot glass two seats down. "Another," he instructed the barman urgently.

The barman sat a drink in front of Michael, and Sara snatched it, moving it in front of her before Michael could drink it. She placed her hand on his wrist, squeezing gently. "Come on, baby. Let me take you home, okay?"

Michael turned to her dizzily and squinted his eyes to focus. "Why are you even here?" he asked, shaking his arm from her grasp and snatching his drink back. He flipped his head back again the burning brown liquid scorched his mouth. "Don't you have someone's private space to violate?"

Sara opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get any words out, a tall man was leaning over her. He reeked of alcohol and she tried to stumble backwards, but the bar was in her way. He smiled at her, "This guy giving you a hard time? Don't worry, baby. I'll buy you a drink. Then we can head back to my place. Pick your poison." Sara found him leaning even closer, almost brushing his lips across her neck.

Something inside Michael snapped and he flew off of his bar stool at the guy so close to Sara. His wooden stool clattered to the floor behind him and he grabbed the guy by the shirt and pulled him from Sara. Michael slammed the much taller man into the bar, twisting his hand up behind his back before yanking him from the surface and repeating his action into the wall. The barman began screaming at him but Michael was deaf to his pleas, blinded by rage. He twisted the guy's arm, who let out a shriek when his bones clicked and Michael slammed him face first into the wall again. Blood oozed from the guy’s eyebrow, stinging his eyes and his nose was also bleeding. "Stay away from her," Michael spat into the guy's ear before two other burly men dragged his furious body from him. "Stay away from her!" he shouted as the guys carried him towards the door, his feet barely touching the ground before his ass as he hit the rain soaked pavement with a thud.

Sara tossed a couple bills onto the liquor-soaked bar before hurrying out after Michael. She found him crouched down on the pavement and rolled her eyes, moving over to him. Kneeling down beside him, Sara brushed a hand through his now-soaked hair. "Oh, Michael. What was that?"

Michael's alcohol drenched blood did nothing for his balance when he stood to his feet, stepping awkwardly sideways a few times before slipping from the curb and landing in a puddle. He didn't notice his rain soaked feet or his drenched shirt that had clung to his body and exposed every intricate line of his tattoo beneath. He couldn't even focus on Sara as the rain pounded against his face and his eyes blinked rapidly to avoid the droplets hitting his eyeballs. He simply held up a hand to silence her, gulping down the threat of regurgitation, and stumbled from her down the street.

"Michael. . ." Sara hurried after him. She took a hold of his hand, wrapping his arm around her neck and trying to lead him to the car. She had never seen him so drunk. "Drinking was not the way to solve this. Neither was beating up some random guy in a bar because he came onto me. It's not like you were sitting there, claiming me as yours."

Michael laughed again. "No, but you know what?" he turned to her and Sara looked back up at him expectantly. He smiled but it was fake. "It felt good," he spat out so close to Sara's face she could feel his breath through the cold rain. Michael slid his arm off of her and braced his weight against a wall, his fingers slipping against the bricks the first time he tried to position himself upright while he laughed.

Sara stood, taking the rain full force, watching him with her arms crossed. She felt slightly sick to her stomach and had to turn away for a moment, shaking her head. Finally, she turned back to him, trying not to cry. "Michael. . . Michael, what do I have to do? What is it you need from me? What's it going to take?" She tapped her hand on his chest. "I'm in here, but how do I get inside your mind? Inside you?

"You can't!" he shouted over the sound of the rain droplets hitting the pavement. "That's the simple answer...you can't," he said firmly, slumping against the brickwork and sliding to the floor unevenly. His head fell forward, swaying between his knees as he panted rapidly and tears stung his throat. Sara was right, alcohol was a really bad idea because now he was crying. "I am...I am so alone," he admitted lifting his head and his breath hitching in his throat.

Sara knelt down in front of him, not even feeling the water from the grimy puddle soak into the knees of her jeans. "Oh, Michael. Oh, baby." She took his head in her hands and kissed his forehead before resting her own against it. "You are not alone. I am here. I am always, always here, Michael."

"No..." Michael shook her head against hers before taking a needed breath as he continued to sob. "You were right," he choked. "You're always in here," Michael flattened his palm over his heart and the shirt crinkled from his touch. "But not in here," he groaned, slamming his fist into the side of his head again. "Not...in...here," he repeated, banging his head into the wall behind him and gritting his teeth to dull the pain.

"Stop it!" Sara all but shouted, grabbing him by the cheeks and doing her best to hold his head still. She pressed her lips to his forehead again, doing her best to keep her sobs choked back. "Michael, don't. Don't do this." A sob finally escaped, against her will. "You're scaring me."

Michael looked at her groggily for a few second. "My head's warm," he slurred, reaching behind his head and stroking his hair with a soaking wet hand. He inspected his fingers quickly as the dirty raindrops hit the crimson warmth and diluted it enough so it slid from his skin. "Is that blood?" he frowned with a sway.

“Yeah, baby, it's blood," Sara murmured, watching him closely. She took his hands in hers, squeezing tightly and offering him a weak, sad smile. "Can I take you home?"

Michael nodded weakly, his lip quivering. He leant forward enough so Sara could hug him and help him to his feet and a trail of hotness dribbled down his neck before it was instantly cooled by the rain.

Sara led Michael to the car, opening the door for him and helping him get positioned in the passenger's seat. Once inside the car, she opened the glove compartment and grabbed a wad of tissues. She pressed them to the back of his head and took his hand, moving it to hold them in place. She lowered her voice, "Can you hold those there for me, Michael?"

Michael lolled his head backwards and crushed his hand to the headrest holding the tissues in place. He didn’t hear the car when it started, or feel it bump down the curb. He felt dizzy and his eyes fluttered closed as they drove home but he could still make out the flashes of street lamps through his eyelids. When the car stopped, he jolted awake and pulled his door open weakly and stumbled out.

Sara quickly walked to Michael's side of the car, digging her house keys out of her purse. She reached for his hand. "Do you need me to help you inside?"

Michael tumbled over, landing on all fours and dropping the blood stained tissues to the ground. "Uh oh," he said slowly, pushing himself to his wobbly feet once more. "I'm bleeding," he announced staggering towards her.

"Yes, you are," Sara murmured, reaching out and wrapping her arm around his waist. She was exhausted, and she felt as though the night was just beginning. "Maybe you shouldn't pick fights in bars anymore, hmm?"

"Yeah..."Michael agreed hesitantly with a frown. He didn't remember fighting anyone in a bar...or even going to a bar. As soon as his body was inside and away from the rain he began to shiver uncontrollably. His teeth chattered, his arms shook up and down and his breath left his body unexpectedly. His wet clothes gripped at his skin like a giant flexible icicle and kept him cold as Sara helped him toward the couch. "N...n...no...m...m...more," he stuttered through shakes.

"No more what, baby?" Sara sighed, pressing her palm to her forehead. She glanced him over and walked over to the wall, turning the temperature up on the thermostat. "Get undressed, okay? I'm going to get you some dry clothes and some coffee." She made her way slowly upstairs, peeling off layers of wet clothes as she did so. She recognized the signs of an LLI episode, but for the first time since they had been together, it scared her.

Michael stood shivering to the spot. Sara's words fell on deaf ears. His eyes were closed and he gripped at his hands that were resting against his chest under his chin. Rainwater dribbled from his hair, down his bowed forehead and off the end of his features.

Sara quickly changed into flannel pants and a sweatshirt, pulling her damp hair out of its ponytail. She grabbed the same attire for Michael, then moved down to the kitchen, turning on the coffee pot. She picked the clothes back up and grabbed a towel before she moved back into the living room, finding him standing in the same spot. Taking a deep breath, she put on her best professional tone. "Michael, I'm going to get you out of this wet clothes, okay?"

"Ok...okay," he stammered, peeling his eyes open and taking in her dry figure. He frowned as she undid his shirt and peeled the fabric from his skin. "I'm t...tired," he told her, inhaling deeply when his torso started to warm up.

"I bet you are," Sara murmured, slowly pulling his pants down his legs. "I'm tired too, Michael." She patted his back and legs with the towel and picked Michael's clothes back up, pushing them against his chest. "I'm going to get the coffee. Can you get dressed for me?"

Michael nodded, taking the shirt from her and pulling it over his head, wincing when it scraped his wound. He pulled the pants over his feet with a struggle but was curled up in the fetal position when Sara returned with coffee. His body shivered a last time before her relaxed against the couch cushion, letting his eyes fall closed with a sigh of relief.

 

Sara knelt down beside the couch, pressing her hand to his forehead. She leaned back on her heels and spoke softly. "Michael, I need you to sit up and take a drink of this for me."

Michael’s eyes peeled open when Sara touched him. She was warm, soft and her hand heated his cool skin gently, making him feel safe. He pushed himself into a sitting position, his shoulders hunched and he wrapped his hands around the black coffee mug firmly while it rested on his knee, not sure if he could hold it by himself.

Sara placed her hand on Michael's wrist, holding onto it gently, trying to get a feel for his pulse. She glanced to where he balanced the cup on his knee and arched an eyebrow. "You need help with that?"

Michael's body suddenly shook, a reaction to his body still heating itself. The coffee lapped up the side of the mug, spilling over the edge and staining a hot patch onto Michael's pants. He shook his head but made no attempt to lift the cup to his lips and sample the liquid darkness. "I'm an ass..." Michael declared in a flurried moment of clarity, his head stinging and his muscles aching. He couldn't meet her gaze so he let his eyes close again. The world was more stable when he couldn't see the room spinning.

Sara dropped his wrist and sat down next to him. She touched his forehead once again with her palm before moving away from him just a bit, breaking all contact. "Well. I'm not going to argue that."

Michael took a blind sip of the coffee and burnt his tongue on its hotness. He rested the mug on the clear glass top of their table and sat back on the couch. He rolled his head towards her and finally met her gaze. His eyes were red, watery and stung from tears he had let fall from their ducts. His hand desperately sought out hers against the couch cushions and he gripped at it, encasing it under his massive paw. "Don't leave me..." he begged, under the drunken impression their relationship was over. Michael's breath hitched and his other hand rested behind his head, trying to avoid friction between his gashed skull and their couch.

"Michael, I'm not going to leave you," Sara murmured, scooting closer to him. She shrugged and shook her head. "It was a fight. We're going to fight, it's part of life. But you can't do this every time.”

Michael shook his head and it swayed heavily from side to side. He took a massive gulp, hiding his tears as they disappeared from his throat back into the pit of his stomach. "I won't," he said quickly, his words slipping and sliding from his mouth because of his relaxed tongue. "I promise," and he meant every word, however small. "I'll even remember I’ve promised it in the morning," Michael laughed weakly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and letting his body slide sideways down the back of the sofa until his head rested on Sara's shoulder.

Sara turned her head, kissing the top of his head softly. "You can't. . . you can't run off to bars and get drunk and expect me to chase you, Michael. I watched my dad do that to my mom. I watched him chase her until he couldn't anymore and their marriage fell apart." She kissed him once again. "You should go to bed."

“I know,” Michael said, his tone that of a scolded child who had learned his lesson. “Come with me?” Michael asked her quietly, laying his hand on her stomach and holding her to him, inhaling her scent and feeling the warmth radiate from her body to his.

Sara brushed her lips against Michael's, smelling the alcohol that still lingered. Standing up, she shook her head. "No, you uh. . . you go on. I need to clean. I'll be up later."

"Okay," Michael said sadly, not understand the full extent of her rejection in his intoxicated state. He slid into the void her body left and his eyes rolled closed as soon as his head on the arm of the couch. "Okay...I'll...just..." he mumbled against the fabric before his words trailed off and he was asleep.

Sara sighed and shook her head, grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch. Draping it over him, she leaned over, kissing the top of his head. "Sweet dreams, Michael."

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been expressed that a few things in this fic are not adding up. Firstly, Lincoln and Sara are not a thing. There is only the love shared between two friends between them. Secondly, without giving too much away, Michael is struggling to cope with some stuff he is keeping inside, but it is exploding into his real life now. All will become clear, do not fear! If people are reading this and thinking Michael is being a dick, he is. There is a reason, but I cannot tell you without ruining the future chapters! :D

Michael's head pounded so hard that he thought there was a small child thumping against the inside of his skull with a baseball bat. He frowned but did not open his eyes. He was lying on his front with one hand draped over the edge of the couch, his knuckles grazing the carpet. His mouth was putrid and dry, tasting of dust and the lingering tang of sour liquor. His body felt heavy, pressing itself into the body print he had already made in the cushions. He shifted with a groan, willing one of his eyes to open and realising he was in the lounge. Alone.

Sara thought she heard Michael moving, and she walked slowly into the lounge. He was awake. And obviously in pain. Staring down at him, she crossed her arms. "Good morning, sunshine. Hungover?"

Michael rolled his eyes upwards and took in Sara's glare before his eyes rolled closed again. He squinted at her words that were amplified in his head, sounding like a wailing banshee in his ears. "A little..." he sighed, heaving his body sideways and landing on his back with a painful groan. He rearranged himself under the blanket, scrunching the material under his chin and instantly feeling a sting to the back of his head.

Sara leaned over, glancing at the back of his head. "Well, you're healing nicely. At least that's something." She sat down next to him, keeping her expression serious. "How much do you remember of last night?"

"Healing?" Michael mirrored her words, gingerly touching the back of his head. "Last night?" Michael squirmed under her firm expression. "I uh..." he swallowed, his face turning to one of disgust at the taste in his mouth. "I'm guessing we fought...and I drank...and this time it was bad?" he looked at her innocently, motioning to his current residence on the couch.

"Pretty damn bad," Sara nodded, she took a hold of his arm. "Can you sit up?" Once she got him in a sitting position, she handed him a warm mug of coffee. "Let's see if this does anything for that headache."

Michael lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. His headache thumped in his head and Michael could hear each rhythmic thud in his ears. "I don't suppose sorry even begins to cover it, does it?"

"It's over, it's done with," Sara shook her head. "It's not a big deal. I, uh. . . got you a new computer this morning? I don't know if it's the right kind."

"Why would I need a new computer?" Michael asked, puzzled. He twisted his wrist and took in the time. "Have I been asleep all morning? It's the afternoon already," he sounded amazed.

"Christ, Michael." Sara stood up, not able to bite back her annoyance anymore. "You need a new computer cause you tossed yours across the room yesterday. Let's hope that zip file of yours works." She walked out of the room, back into the kitchen. "I've got shit to do."

Michael bit his tongue and watched her go. She was angry and she probably had every right to be angry. He had definitely messed up this time, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what he had done. He figured it was an LLI outburst, so he threw back the blanket, pushed himself to his feet and followed her to the kitchen. "Sara," he called, catching her attention. "How bad was it this time?"

"Bad," Sara murmured, placing some dirty dishes into the dishwasher. "The worst I've ever seen you in fact." She turned the dishwasher on and turned around. "We don't have to discuss it."

"No...no I want to...I want to make this right," he said with a gruff, alcohol affected voice. His throat was dry and his voice was strained. "What did...why did I..." he struggled to find the right words to ask Sara what had set him off without passing blame from himself.

Sara leaned against the counter, crossing her arms in front of her. "You want to hear it, Michael? I rearranged your office and you flipped out. Trashed the place, yelled at me. Left. I found you at a bar, drunk off your ass on whiskey. And then to make matters worse, some guy hit on me and you slammed him into the wall!"

Michael laughed. "That's ridiculous!" he exclaimed, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the door frame. When Sara didn't shift her expression his smile faded. "Oh my god..." he breathed, holding his hand over his mouth, disgusted with himself. "Are you okay?" he offered, not expecting her to reply honestly to his question.

Sara bit on her bottom lip, nodding slowly. "Of course, Michael. I'm fine." She brushed passed him, heading upstairs. "I need to change our sheets."

"Did I..." he cut himself off, unable to say the words he needed to as she brushed past him. Michael reached out and gripped her arm lightly but Sara flinched from his touch. "Did I hurt you?" he choked out, images of rape and Sara's crying beneath him invading his mind. It was horrible and each image was as bad as the one before. In his heart, Michael knew he couldn't hurt Sara, but his mind was overly worked and overly paranoid so he let himself believe he was capable.

"Michael, no." Sara immediately softened, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. She shook her head vehemently, wondering what exactly he was imagining in his head. "You would never hurt me. You know that."

Sara’s words caused a burning of tears in the back of Michael's throat and he lowered his head ashamed. "I'll get help...I promise," he snapped his gaze up to meet hers with a broken voice that wavered on each syllable. "I want this to stop."

Sara brought her hand up to his cheek, brushing her thumb softly across his skin. "Michael, it's . . . it's okay. I can deal with it. I love you, that's all that matters."

"No, Sara...It's not," Michael sighed pulling her hands from his skin and leaning from her touch. "I can't keep putting you in situations where you could get hurt," he insisted. "It's getting worse...and you know it," he breathed reaching out and cupping her face in his hand and moving to press his lips to hers passionately. "I can't do that to you," he whispered against her lips, resting his forehead to hers as he stroked a thumb across her cheekbone. “I love you too much.”

"It's not a big deal, okay?" Sara raised her voice and pulled away, moving back upstairs. She walked into their bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her. She'd been to therapy several times in her life, and each time it had done nothing but make things worse. She stripped the bed in an angry fashion, allowing the light blue sheets to fall to the floor.

Michael watched her flee from him and his heart sank. Was she scared of him? Why was she so against him getting help when it was for her safety? Michael knew he was unpredictable, and he didn't always remember his episodes. They were like chunks of life missing from his mind. They happened, and they had repercussions, but Michael's mind erased them and he had to rely on others to let him know how bad they were getting. "Sara?" Michael tapped lightly on their bedroom door. "I understand if you don't want to talk to me right now..." he paused, pressing his ear to the door and hearing her hastily stripping of the bed stopping. "...but I think I should...I'll be at Linc's if you need me okay?" Her silence was his answer. "Okay," he confirmed to himself, moving from the door and back downstairs.

Sara stood still in the bedroom for several seconds, trying to decide whether or not to respond. Finally, she dropped the pillow onto the floor, and hurried back downstairs, catching Michael as he pulled his jacket on. "One of us always runs."

Michael paused for a second before shrugging his jacket over his shoulders and flipping the collar flat against his neck. "I'm not running," he told her, cupping her face in his hands and pressing his lips to hers lightly. He offered her a small smile and let his hands slide from her skin unwillingly. "I'll be home," Michael promised, pulling the door open and slipping his frame through the frame. "I love you," he told her before pulling the door closed behind him and taking the long, leisurely walk to Lincoln's. Thirty minutes later, Michael heaved a sigh and tapped on the brass knocker at Lincoln's front door, still dressed in his sweat pants and t-shirt he had worn to bed last night.

Lincoln clicked off the TV and moved up, slowly walking to the front door. He had no idea who could be there unless LJ had ordered something off of eBay again. Opening the door, he found his little brother standing there. He took in his appearance for a second before announcing, "You look like shit."

Michael's face remained unchanged at Lincoln's words that would have normally made him smile. "Can I come in?" he asked politely, although why he didn't know. Lincoln was his brother, older at that, and it was his duty to be there for his younger sibling. Michael gave him a sorrowful look. "LLI," he simply said, pushing past Lincoln into his house.

Lincoln kicked the door shut behind them, walking into the kitchen and taking two beers out of the refrigerator. He opened one for himself and held the other out towards Michael, carefully considering his next words. He knew his brother's attacks and how they could be better than anyone. "You hit Sara yet?"

Michael declined the beer. The thought of any more alcohol making him feel sick to his stomach. "No," Michael replied, unsure of his own answer. "I only hit you in a breakdown, remember?" he smiled weakly, letting a slight chuckle escape his lips as he let his jacket slid off his body. He hung it over the back of a stool in Lincoln's kitchen and seated himself on it. "You still have the title of World's Most Abused by a Loved One, don't worry."

Lincoln sat his own beer down and studied Michael carefully. He tapped his fingers briskly on the counter and sighed. "It's not easy to get, Michael. It's going to hurt her for a while. And she has a right to feel that way."

Michael fell silent and stared at Lincoln's fingers drumming against the counter. "I'm afraid," he admitted suddenly. "They’re getting worse...What if next time, I can't stop myself?"

"You're not going to hurt her," Lincoln told Michael firmly. "I know you, Michael, and no matter how bad you get, you would never hurt Sara. You'd never touch her like that." He hesitated. "Remember those meds you took? You could try them again."

"She's at home, right now, stripping our bed and changing our sheets," Michael looked up to his brother, his face etched with worry. "What If I have already crossed a line and she's not telling me?" His face twisted with horror and he looked away again. "And those meds?" Michael clarified. "Were for kids with no way to process their environment efficiently enough. They were a sedative, Linc. I don't want that again."

"She'd tell you," Lincoln told him firmly. "And if you crossed a line, you know she'd call me the second it happened. Stop worrying about shit like that. You just make this worse." Lincoln shook his head. "You need to go talk to someone, and she needs to go with you."

"Like, together?" Michael frowned. "Sara doesn't like shrinks," he laughed.

"Sara can get over not liking shrinks," Lincoln told Michael matter-of-factly. He picked up the coffee pot and poured Michael a cup, holding it out to him. "Which does she hate worse, therapy or your episodes?"

Michael took the coffee from Lincoln and blew across the top to cool the hot, bitter liquid inside. "I don't know," Michael sighed. "I think I scared her last night, and I mean really scared her. I need help, Linc," Michael said, his voice full of misery as he stared into his coffee cup. "I really do this time."

Lincoln gave Michael a sympathetic look but kept his tone gruff. "Then do something about it instead of standing here whining about it. You can't take it back, Mike." He paused. "Want me to call Sara?"

Michael looked up to him with a light hearted grin. "And say what?" he quirked an eyebrow. "You don't exactly...emotional women are a little scary you know," Michael told him and his chest shook with laughter. "Whatever you have to say though...I'd really appreciate it."

Lincoln picked up the phone and dialed Sara's number. Three rings sounded before her hesitant voice picked up. Lincoln sighed and rolled his eyes at her tired tone. "You. Over here. Now." With that, he hung up.

Michael stared at Lincoln absolutely shocked to the core. His brother definitely had a way with people. It wasn't always polite, easy going or particularly nice, but it got the job done. Michael chuckled and took a gulp of his coffee. "So, to avoid a hefty bill and another fight with Sara...you're going to be our shrink?" Michael asked, his heart suddenly fluttering in his chest when Sara didn't return Lincoln's call and tell him how much of an ass he was.

"I've been to enough therapy for us all," Lincoln muttered, tossing his beer into the trash. "You and Sara are runners. You've been running from each other ever since you left Fox River. And now you're just running in circles. We're going to fix you."

"Well, while I have tremendous faith in your abilities, Dr. Burrows," Michael mocked, finishing up his coffee and sliding from his stool to wash up the mug. "You should know better than anyone, there is no quick fix for LLI."

"You don't have to wash that," Lincoln rolled his eyes, motioning to the stack of coffee cups in the sink. There was a soft knock on his door, and he stood up. "Hmm, I wonder who that could be. How about you go get it?"

Michael's head spun towards the door and his brother's words were muffled by his weakening hangover. He gulped hard; reaching for the door handle and peering through the crack before pulling it open wider. He smiled at Sara. "Linc thinks we need him as a shrink," he laughed as she walked past him into the house. "And according to the good doctor, we are runners."

"I thought I was the good doctor," Sara muttered under her breath, moving back towards the kitchen. She nodded at Linc, slipping her arm around his waist and letting him pull her into a hug. He placed a quick kiss on her head before moving to grab her a cup of coffee.

"Okay," Michael rolled his eyes and let the door close itself. "You're still mad, but that's okay," he nodded, stepping into the kitchen with his hands buried deep in his pockets. "I deserve that."

"I'm not mad, Michael." Sara shook her head and sipped at her coffee, closing her eyes as the liquid scorched down her throat. "I didn't sleep last night. I'm just tired."

"But that was my fault," Michael said, looking directly at Lincoln and willing him to interrupt at any time. "You should be mad, right?" he told her, directing the question at Lincoln.

Lincoln leaned against the counter, ready to play mediator. "You can tell him if you're mad, Sara."

Sara pursed her lips and gave Lincoln a look before turning back to Michael. "I'm not mad, I promise. Is there something I need to be here for?"

"Do you not want to be here with me?" Michael asked, the feeling of self-doubt and paranoia creeping into his mind once again. "Do I scare you?" Michael muttered honestly, letting the words he had wanted to say come out at last.

"Of course I want to be with you, Michael. I'm just not sure why we have to be in Lincoln's kitchen to do be together. You're the one who left. . ." Sara trailed off and stared down into her coffee. "Yeah. You scare me sometimes, Michael."

"I don't mean to," Michael whispered with a pained voice. He slumped back against the counter and shot a quick glance at Lincoln before continuing on a sigh. "We are here because..." Michael stilled his words, shuffling his feet on the black and white tiled floor on Lincoln's kitchen. "...we are here because I scare myself too sometimes, and I am so afraid of us talking and it leading to me hurting you...Lincoln just makes me feel safe right now," Michael averted his eyes but could feel his older brother's steel blue orbs burning into his profile.

"I don't think I'm the one who should make you feel safe, Michael. . ." Lincoln murmured, glancing to Sara, who wore a hurt expression. Sara met Lincoln's gaze and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ward off tears.

She folded her hands in her lap and looked down. "That's just it, Michael. Lincoln knows this whole side of you I can't get inside. And maybe if you'd just let me in, it wouldn't have to scare me. I wouldn't be scared that this is going to drive us apart."

Michael considered her words for a moment and then moved to her, scooping her hands up in his and holding them suspended in the air, inches from his lips. "Is that what really scares you? Us being driven apart?" Michael caught a glint of moisture in her eyes and tilted her chin up so their eyes met. "I'd never let that happen," he breathed, gently rubbing his thumb across her eyelids and wiping away the tear that began to seep free. "I can let you in," Michael announced with uncertainty, his own fears racking his body. "Let's lay all of our cards on the table. Ask me anything you would think I would tell Lincoln and not you."

Lincoln watched the scene play out and cleared his throat, shuffling slowly out of the kitchen. "I think I hear the phone."

Sara didn't even hear Lincoln, she just took Michael's hands in hers and shrugged. "I don't know, Michael. I just. . . There's so much you never told me about you being a kid. What started triggering your episodes? How can Lincoln help you that I can't? What can I do, Michael? What are you so scared you're going to do to me?"

Michael took a long shaky breath and shot a glance over his shoulder to make sure Lincoln was gone. “When I was a kid, I was abused,” he told her sadly, hearing her soft sigh of remorse at his words. “My foster father was…evil,” Michael bit out the word, and his entire body tensed with anger. “I was locked up all day, in darkness, with no human contact, and all I did was fabricate things in my mind. Everything became something, however small,” Michael said to her. His hands shook and his body began to sweat. He had never told anyone about his childhood before, and it sounded foreign to his ears. “He would only let me out to beat me, Sara, and I thought that was my purpose in life…my fault,” Michael lifted his gaze and raised his voice a little. It turned from weak and scared to defiant and irate and he let out a grunt of frustration. “That would be my low self-worth,” he laughed lightly letting his hands slip from Sara’s and turning to lean on his elbows against the counter in Lincoln’s kitchen. “One day…” he began, not letting her interrupt. “…One day, I heard a fight, and I heard a scream. The door opened and this man told me to go with him. He was kind, had a gentle smile but I hesitated for a second, because he was a stranger,” Michael licked his lips and rubbed his hands together, remembering the second, and last time he ever saw his father before he died. “He was my father,” Michael strained out, letting his eyes close and a single tear to fall from them. “And lying behind him in a pool of his own blood was my foster father, cold and dead on the floor. My father had killed him, and you ask, what am I scared I might do to you?” Michael lifted his head to hers again but his face was full of sadness and a distance that her caring features couldn’t even touch had been put between them. “Ever heard of a genetic predisposition to violence?” he scoffed, pushed himself off the counter and rested his body against the sink with his arms crossed over his chest. “I am my father’s son and that’s what scares me.”

Sara sat on the stood for a moment, looking down at her lap. She pressed her hand against the cool counter for a moment before pushing herself up into a standing position. She glanced over at him, and opened her mouth, then closed it again. Of all the things she had imagined he would tell her, this topped the list of the worst. They had been together for so long, and he hadn't even come close to talking about this stuff. Licking her bottom lips, Sara finally took a step towards him. "Michael. . . that man. . . your father killed him because he hurt you. That's a parent’s instinct. My father and I didn't have the best relationship but if anyone had ever really, really hurt me I can't say he would have reacted any differently." She paused and took another step towards him. "I would do anything to go back and change what happened to you, or to be able to absorb some of that pain and take it away and make it my own, but I can't. And you can't go back." She closed the gap completely and cupped his face in her hands. "Michael, your dad hurt him because he hurt you. Why would you hurt me? I don't. . . I don't hurt you. Do I, Michael? Is that what this is?"

Michael shook his head in her hands, gripping at her palms and crushing them to his skin. "No, Sara, you've never hurt me. You make me feel...there are no words to describe how you make me feel," he smiled, his lips twitching up at the corners just briefly. "But I...I have this nightmare..." he trailed off, letting a sob shake his body.

"What nightmare?" Sara whispered, trailing her thumbs down his cheeks. She leaned her forehead against his, trying to fight back tears. "Maybe if you tell me it will stop?"

"I..." Michael stuttered and his breath hitched in his chest before another tear fell. He pinched his eyes closed so she couldn't see his anguish. "I have...this...episode..." he said disjointedly because his body burned from releasing its burden and his tears continued to stream his face. "...I hurt you, Sara. I hurt you, and I...rape you..." Michael clung to Sara's hand, willing them with silent pleading never to let him go. "...And I...and I can't stop myself..." Michael's body finally broke down and he gargled his words through his tears.

"Michael. . . Michael. . ." Sara wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close to her. She pressed her lips to the top of his head, repeating his name over and over. "That won't happen. That will not happen. Okay?" She rubbed her hand up and down his back. "You love me, Michael. You wouldn't do that."

Michael cried, like he had never cried before. His face was pressed to her shoulder, soaking the fabric of her shirt with his tears. Michael's arms wrapped around Sara's waist, holding her to him. This is what he needed. He needed for her to say it would be fine, that she knew and understood what he was going through, even if she really didn't. The words would make him feel better and lifted the weight from his body. After a while, Michael's sobs softened and he looked back up to her while taking in rapid breaths. "Maybe I should...take some time off work," he said. "Maybe it's too much." Michael lifted his hand and brushed his fingertips lightly down Sara's hair and let it trail down her neck with feathery grace. "Thank you," he breathed, pulling her into anther crushing hug.

“Maybe we should take some time apart,” Sara whispered softly.

Michael frowned at her. “You’re leaving me?”

"I'm not leaving you," Sara shook her head, taking another step back. "And I don't want to break up, Michael. I love you more than anything. But maybe my love isn't enough?" She finally stopped trying to hold back her tears. "Maybe my love is the problem, Michael!"

"I don't understand what you are saying, Sara!" Michael bellowed, quickly hushing his voice with a clenched fist and shooting a glance to the kitchen door, in case Lincoln appeared. “What do you want from me?”

"I just want you to get better!" Sara raised her own voice, not really caring if Lincoln heard. "I want to be able to rearrange your office, or take a book of the book shelf, or redo our DVDs without you completely losing it and disappearing! What happens when you go somewhere and I can't find you? What happens when you punch the wrong person and they punch back?" Sara slammed her hand down on the counter. "You would never physically hurt me, Michael. But this? This is killing me!"

Michael had his jaw closed together so hard that he thought a few teeth might have been broken. His eyes flickered across Lincoln's counter, taking in everything that wasn't Sara and diverting his anger towards a more reliable source. With every word, Michael felt his anger rising and he stormed past her out of the kitchen. He wasn't angry with Sara, he was angry with himself, furious that he had even let himself become what he had. He paused as he passed Lincoln's hall and caught a glimpse of the man didn't recognise staring back at him from an oval mirror. With a growl of rage, Michael lashed out and threw everything he had into the glass reflection, shattering the image and splitting his knuckles wide open.

"Michael! What the fuck!" Lincoln came around the corner and grabbed Michael by the shoulders, pushing him back against the wall. "What the hell are you doing?" Lincoln turned to Sara and pointed back to the living room, dropping his voice. "Go sit down, Sara. We'll be out in a second." He grabbed Michael by the arm again, and pushed him towards his bedroom, raising his voice again. "You! Get the fuck in there now, and calm the hell down."

"Relax, I'll buy you another one," Michael spat, inspecting his knuckles and picking a shard of glass from the dripping crimson substance that glittered on his hand.

"Christ, Michael!" Lincoln walked into the adjoining bathroom and grabbed a towel, tossing it at his little brother. "Did you fucking see her face? You scared the shit out of her."

The towel hit Michael in the chest and he quickly wrapped it around his hand. "Now, do you see what I mean?" Michael shouted, dropping to a sit on the edge of Lincoln's dark brown bed sheets. "How long until I can't redirect my anger, huh? Tell me that!"

"You're really pissing me off," Lincoln told him, pointing at him, then sitting down on the bed. "You know that? You have this woman who loves you more than anything, Michael, and you're going to let it fall to hell?" He stood up and shook his head. "You two are going to therapy together if I have to drag you both there myself. Now, go apologize to her, if she's stupid enough to even listen to it."

"She doesn't want to hear my apologies, Linc. She's sick of me apologising." Michael said, the anger still laced in his voice. He pulled the towel from his hand but replaced it hastily when the blood didn't stop flowing. "She thinks this, my whole...instability...she thinks it's her fault," Michael said sarcastically. "She thinks we need time apart."

"Do you need time apart?" Lincoln asked softly, leaning against the bedroom door and crossing his arms. He hesitated, not wanting to set Michael off again. "You said so yourself that it's been getting worse and worse. It wasn't. . . like this. . . before Sara, Mike. Maybe it's not supposed to work out."

Michael laughed weakly and pushed himself to his feet, swaying a little with a light headed rush. "Why is everyone always asking me what I think? I'm sick of all the questions," Michael flinched when his hand began to throb and the blood began to stain his other hand through two layers of towel. "And you..." Michael pointed a menacing finger at Lincoln, taking a step towards him. "...If I didn't know I was so paranoid, I’d say you and Sara had a thing behind my back, and that's why she wants time apart. So she can weight up the pros and cons of each brother..." Michael dabbed at his hand but the blood only smeared across his skin. When the towel didn't work anymore, he slammed it to the floor in frustration. "...see which one she likes best!" Michael spun and kicked out at Lincoln's door and it rattled in the frame.

Michael's slamming around did little to phase Linc. "You're an idiot. You know that, right, Michael? An idiot. Yeah, Sara and I are sleeping together. That's why she's so tired this morning." Lincoln rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Get over yourself."

Michael panted hard, exertion wreaking havoc on his exhausted body. He laid a flat palm to Lincoln's door, trying to steady himself and stand up straight, but he was thwarted each time by a blackness behind his eyes. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision but he just stared at Lincoln's floor disorientated. Finally, he managed to look up at Lincoln from the blood pooling by his side. "Linc, I..." he breathed and then stumbled backwards into a dresser, knocking everything off the top. "...I don't feel so good," he swallowed his words and then his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell limp to the floor.

Lincoln hit his head against the door before opening it and calling down the hallway. "Sara. Could you come take care of your husband, please? He's passed out and bleeding."

Sara rolled her eyes and walked slowly down the hallway. She pushed past Lincoln and knelt beside Michael, taking his hand and gauging his pulse. She glanced over to Lincoln, "I don't think I can do this anymore."

"Sara, I'm not going to tell you what to do," Lincoln told her softly. "That's not my place, and you can't ask me that. But I told you once a long, long time ago that --"

"Michael's been abandoned his whole life," Sara murmured. She took his hand in hers, pressing the towel to his knuckles. "Right. And I can't do that to him."

Lincoln stared at Sara and sighed. "Are you just going to let him lie there?" When Sara didn't do anything, Lincoln let out a low grumble and moved across the floor, pulling Michael into a sitting position and shaking him a bit. "Michael, wake up, or I'm gonna take Sara right here. On my bed."

Sara sighed, moving away from Michael and sitting down on the bed. "Maybe I should go with him. Just once, just to see what it's like."

"No Linc, I don't wanna go to school today," Michael mumbled, shrugging off his brother's touch.

“Jesus Christ," Sara stood up and ran her hands through her hair. "I can't do this, Linc. I can not. We can . . . we can never have kids. We just. . ." She moved towards the door. "I've got to go. Right now."

Lincoln followed Sara into the hallway, grabbing her arm before she could get out the front door. She fought him for a moment, pulling roughly, but Lincoln gave a hard yank, pulling Sara to his chest. She continued to thrash for a moment, but Lincoln held his arms around her, keeping her locked in a hug. She began to softly cry into his chest and he ran his hand through her hair. "It's going to be okay, Sara. You and Michael are going to make it. I'm going to help you."


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Sara begin therapy to try and make sense of the turmoil in their marriage.

The room was silent. The three bodies were equally spaced apart, sitting in a triangle. Michael was at one end of the dark brown, leather couch and Sara was at the other. Dr. Fry, the third apex to their isosceles, was an aged man with more greyed hair around his chin than on his head and square glasses that sat on the end of his nose. They had been there thirteen, no, fourteen minutes and Michael already found the fact that Dr. Fry peered over the top of his glasses annoying. "Tell me why you're so against therapy, Sara," he asked, pen poised above the chart in his hand.

Sara fidgeted on the couch, glancing down towards Michael. He seemed fidgety himself, and she didn't think he'd looked over to her once. She ran her hands over her black pants and cleared her throat, wondering why she'd felt the need to dress up so nicely for a trip to the shrink. She'd gotten up early, curled her hair, done her make-up to perfection, and put on one of her nicest outfits. She let out a puff of air and shrugged. She could do that for Michael. "My mother went to a therapist, she still drank herself to death. I went to a therapist and ended up an addict. It doesn't have a very good track record in my family."

"Sara doesn't think of herself as anything but an addict," Michael said slowly, almost a muttered breath. He didn't look sideways to her. It was as if she was not there and they were both in a protective bubble and could say anything.

"I see her as my wife," he said without hesitation. "As my lover and the mother of my children. Regardless of who she was, or thinks she is now," Michael finished, picking at a loose thread that jutted from the seam of the couch and demanded him attention. Michael rested his arm on the couch and his thin, blue cotton shirt had it's sleeved rolled up to his elbows. Like Sara, Michael had felt the need to dress in his best smart casuals, at which Lincoln had laughed.

And how do you see Michael?" Dr. Fry lifted his eyes from his notes and caught Sara's gaze. He rested one knee over the other and mirrored the action with his hands over the notepad in one hand. "Is your marriage everything you expected?"

"Our marriage is difficult at times," Sara glanced down to her hands. "Sometimes I think I don't understand Michael as good as someone else could? Sometimes I worry that we won't even be able to move passed the anguish and anger of our past together." She paused, looking up. "But I love him, and I wouldn't change a thing."

Dr. Fry made a noise from deep in his throat and turned his gaze towards Michael again. "Michael, if you could change one thing about your marriage, what would it be?"

Michael held his breath and let it out slowly into the room. "Nothing," he said quickly. "But I’d change our past. How we met, how our relationship was before we got married." Michael's voice grew soft and he shifted his gaze back to the thread between his fingers, catching sight of his marbled skin peaking unashamedly from his rolled up sleeves. "I'm not proud of it."

"I see," the doctor said, scribbling yet more notes onto his pad and flipping the page. "How did you two meet, Sara?"

Sara arched an eyebrow, giving the man a dubious look. He had to know how they met. The whole world knew how they met. "Michael was an inmate at Fox River. I was his doctor. We became. . . close during his short time there."

"Mmm hmmm," Dr. Fry scrawled furiously. "And why did you let that happen exactly?"

Sara rolled her eyes, looking over to Michael. He didn't return her gaze. "Because I thought I could get through to him. I thought I could help him? He was. . . open with me. At least I thought he was. We talked about things and it seemed like he really cared."

“How did you feel back then, Michael?”

"In Fox River?" Michael shifted on the couch and rested his arms across his chest. "It didn't matter what I felt then. I just needed her to like me enough so that I could get my brother out of there."

Sara let out a scoff and turned to Michael, spitting out her words. "Well, you sure got what you wanted, didn't you?" She turned back to the doctor. "I left the infirmary door un-locked so he and his brother could get out. Along with six other men, I didn't know about. One of them was a pedophile and a murderer."

"Sara, you shouldn't persecute Michael for being honest in these sessions," Dr. Fry told her, leaning forward and pushing his glasses up his nose. "He clearly feels differently now, or he wouldn't be here." He leant back in his chair and jotted something on his pad.

"I told her, the night we were to escape, what I needed from her," Michael piped up in his defense.

"And yet, you still left the door open," Dr. Fry commented with interest. "Why was that, Sara?"

Sara recrossed her arms. "Because I trusted him. I trusted him enough to know that if he truly believed in his brother's innocence, and if he thought something else was going on. . . then he was probably right. I did it because he asked me to." Sara shrugged. "And then I went home and overdosed on morphine."

Dr. Fry tapped his pen on his knee. "And how did you feel when you heard about that, Michael?"

"Angry," Michael kept his answers short and non-committal. "Guilty." Michael flashed a look at Sara. He had never felt so sorry for anything in his life. "I was uh...I was on the run at the time, so I called her the day I found out."

"And risked getting caught?" Dr. Fry noted Michael's response was a nod.

"I needed to know she was okay. I didn't care about anything else at that point in time," Michael let out a nervous laugh. "I kicked a man in the face when he told me."

"Sara?" Dr. Fry grabbed her attention with her name. "Is Michael violent a lot?" His eyes shifted to Michael and he noted the stitches to his knuckles.

"No," Sara replied immediately, crossing her arms tighter around his chest. "He's probably the least violent man who ever walked into Fox River. The only times I have ever seen Michael get violent are occasions that have to do with me."

Dr. Fry nodded. "Are you ever afraid Michael would hurt you?"

Sara shook her head quickly. "No. Not ever. I trust Michael completely."

Dr. Fry turned back to Michael. "Would you say you trust Sara completely, Michael?"

Michael nodded. "Yes, with my life, and I have, on more than one occasion." Michael clarified while the doctor flipped the page on his booklet again.

Dr. Fry turned to Sara with a puzzled expression. "When did Michael last get violent and why do you think it has to do with you?"

Sara shifted uncomfortably and glanced towards Michael. Why did this have to be so hard? "At his brothers the other day, I told him I thought that we should take a break from each other. And he got really angry and. . . slammed his fist into a mirror."

Dr. Fry made a notation and looked at Sara seriously. "And do you still want a break from your marriage?"

Sara coughed. "I don't want a break from my marriage. I just think Michael might need one. This isn't about me."

"Why do you say that?" The doctor paused his writing and tilted his head sideways. Michael followed his gaze and looked over at her sheepishly too.

Sara looked at Michael as she spoke. "Because Michael is the one with the nightmares, Michael is the one who gets upset. I just. . . I want him to be better. What if he needs to be away from me to get better?"

"Do you think that by removing yourself from his life for a period of time, you can return and Michael be back to normal?" Dr. Fry studied them as he asked.  
"I don't know." Sara shrugged and held out her hands. "I worry that if I move out then he'll realize he won't need me." She turned to Michael giving him her full attention. "I don't know what I would do if you didn't need me anymore."

Michael listened to her words carefully but didn’t have time to respond before the doctor cut in again. "Did you become a doctor so people would need you, Sara?"

Sara sat back up, leaning away from Michael again. She gave the doctor an aggravated look. "No, I did not. I became a doctor because I wanted to help people. Did you become a shrink to get on people's nerves?"

Dr. Fry chuckled and scribble on his pad. "You're a strong woman, Sara," he told her with a deep, thick accented voice.

Michael smiled and nodded in agreement. "Yes she is," he whispered.

Dr. Fry looked up at her again, shifting his gaze between the two people. "I have no doubt that you both love each other very much," he started. "But I have to ask, if my assumption is true, and you are both here to save your marriage? Then why, Sara, are you sitting so far apart? Does Michael need space all the time?"

Sara shrugged, glancing away, looking at the window. She wished it wasn't so damn sunny. "I sat down first. You'd have to ask my husband."

Dr. Fry nodded slowly and turned back to Michael. "Do you feel more comfortable the further away from Sara you are, Michael?"

"I feel..." Michael paused, thinking about his answer carefully. "... Feel like this makes Sara happier."

"Sitting apart?" the doctor asked, confused.

"Yes," Michael said simply.

"Why?"

"Because I know we don't have to be touching all the time to show we love each other. Everyone needs space," Michael said rationally.

"Hmmm," Dr. Fry frowned and shifted in his chair, recrossing his legs in the opposite direction. "How often do you have sex?" he asked Sara.

Sara arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" She turned to Michael and wrinkled her nose slightly as the doctor repeated the question. She shifted uncomfortably again and shrugged. "Not as often as when we were first married, but we still do it. .. a few times a week?" She cleared her throat. "Actually. We haven't had sex in a little over a week."

Dr. Fry looked to Michael. "The longer you’re together, do you find yourself becoming less sexually attracted to Sara?"

Michael laughed again and wondered if therapy was always this ridiculous. "Of course not. That would never happen."

Sara turned to Michael, snapping a question of her own at him. "Then why have you slept on the couch the past three nights?"

Dr. Fry turned his head and followed her gaze. "Michael?" he prompted gently.

"I didn't think you wanted me near you after what happened," he admitted.

"And what did happen, Sara?" Dr. Fry interjected.

Sara stood up, smoothing her hands over her pants. "You know what, I think I need some water." Without waiting for either of them to respond, she moved towards the door, hurrying out into the hallway.

Dr. Fry crossed his arms and leaned back. "Do you want to tell me what happened, Michael?"

"Um...I have this condition, you've probably heard of it," Michael joked weakly. "Low Latent Inhibition?"

Dr. Fry rested his chin on his hand and nodded at Michael, urging him to continue with a grunt of approval.

"Yeah well, I have episodes that I don't always remember, and they are scary. They are scary for me, scary for Sara, in fact, the only person not scared by them in my brother because he grew up with them." Michael looked towards the door, willing Sara to return. He gently cleared his throat and continued. "Sara rearranged my office and I had an episode. I went to a bar, got drunk and passed out on the couch after she brought me home."

"And the two nights before?" Dr. Fry prodded.

Michael froze up. It was his nightmares, getting more and more vivid, that had stopped him crawling into bed at night. He had only ever told Sara about them. "I uh..." he swallowed, hushing immediately when the door clicked open again and Sara walked back into the room.

Sara closed the door behind her, moving back towards the couch. "I'm sorry about that." She glanced down to Michael and sat back down, considerably closer to him. Their bodies were inches apart, if either one of them shifted slightly they would touch.

Dr. Fry watched her. "How does it make you feel when Michael sleeps on the couch, Sara?"

Sara cleared her throat again. "Um, lonely, I guess. Like he's trying to shut me out. I'd rather him talk to me than pull away. That's not what marriage is supposed to be about. I won't be my parents."

"What do you think marriage is supposed to be about, Michael?" Dr. Fry glanced at his watch.

Michael looked at Sara, reached between their bodies and laid his hand over hers. His fingers wrapped around hers, interlocking them and pressing their palms together. "Marriage is about love, and commitment..." he began smoothly, watching their hands intertwine on the leather. "...and being there for your wife when she needs you...telling her every one of your deepest, darkest secrets and being thankful when she is still there by your side," he offered her a weak smile.

"You're right," Sara turned her body towards Michael's, squeezing his hand gently. "And I'm always going to be here for you, Michael. I just need you to know that. . . I need to know you need me? Don't push me away."

"I need you, Sara. More than anything," Michael admitted, lifting their hands and kissing her wedding band. "You're stuck with me," he laughed lightly.

"This is good. You two are re-connecting on a new level of honesty," Dr. Fry noted. He smiled at them and cocked his head at Sara. "Sara, tell me, what happens when Michael has an LLI episode?"

Michael's smile faded and he looked at her nervously. "It's okay," he nodded at her, squeezing her hand that rested under his on his knee.

"He isn't himself. It's almost like he goes somewhere completely different. He gets distant and angry and. . . it scares me." Sara nodded slowly, running her fingers in circles over Michael's knee. "I just worry someday he's going to be so far gone I can't bring him back."

Dr. Fry turned the page in his book. "Michael, how does it make you feel that Sara feels that way?"

Michael shifted in his seat and rubbed his hand over his head awkwardly. "It makes me wish I didn't have LLI," he pinched the corners of his eyes next to the bridge of his nose and blew out another breath. "I feel like...like it's ruining us? I don't know."

"I see," Dr. Fry jotted Michael's response down. "And are you ready to tell me why you slept on the couch for the two nights before your outburst?"

"No." Michael snapped quietly. "No," he shook his head gently and pulled Sara's hand even close to his body.

"Ok," Dr. Fry said gently, sensing Michael's unease at the question. "Can I ask about your tattoos?" Michael nodded.

Sara scooted closer to Michael, turning to look at him. She knew he didn't want to share about his nightmares and she didn't blame him. When the doctor mentioned Michael's tattoos, she squeezed his hand harder.

"Michael, do you feel as though your tattoos brand you for life? That you can't ever get passed what you did because of them?"

"They are a part of me that I can't change," Michael said firmly. "I'm not ashamed of them, and I am not ashamed of what they helped me do. My brother was innocent."

"Sara, how do you feel about them? Do they define your relationship, knowing that they were a plan you were part of?" Dr. Fry said softly.

"They just make Michael who he is," Sara said slowly, shaking her head. "They don't make me think any less of him. We all have our scars, and really all they are is a testament to how far Michael would go for someone he really cares about."

Dr. Fry turned to Michael. "How far would you go for Sara?"

"What kind of a question is that?" Michael quipped sarcastically.

"You risked your life for your brother. You gave up everything for him, knowing full well that it might not work. That you might never get your life back," Dr. Fry said slowly. "How does Sara measure up to your brother?"

"I'm not married to my brother," Michael snapped. "I love them both, but obviously, I love Sara more than life itself." He turned to her and swallowed hard. "I don't know what I’d do if I lost you."

"You're never going to lose me," Sara shook her head, turning and smiling softly at him. All of the sudden she felt like crying and she didn't know why. She repeated the words Michael had said to her earlier. "You're stuck with me."

Michael's lips twitched up at the corners and he smiled. He reached over, threaded his fingers in her hair and pulled her head to his. Their foreheads bumped together and Michael moved to brush her tears away with his thumb.

"May I ask," Dr. Fry interrupted. "How do you feel when Michael touches you, Sara? Not having sex is one thing but sleeping apart...How does that make you feel?"

Michael ended their session in a comfortable silence. Sara knew his answer. He knew his answer. Dr. Fry would have to wait until next week to find out.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More therapy with the Scofields! We had so much fun writing these, we just added more and more!

Sara sat on her and Michael's bed, her legs tucked under her. She was going over some paperwork, knowing that if she didn't get it done that night, she'd be swamped at the hospital tomorrow. She sighed and shut the folder, wondering where Michael had disappeared to. "Michael? Are you still here?"

"Just a minute!" Michael called, his voice echoing off the tiles of their bathroom. He poked his head around the corner of their bedroom and grinned at her. "You look stressed...are you stressed?" He said, his tone joyous and almost laughable. Michael Scofield never was a good comedy actor.

Sara arched an eyebrow, but had to smile at the expression on his face. "You look goofy, you know that, right?" She pushed the paperwork far away from her. "Sometimes I hate work."

"That means you are," he deduced, stepping into the room and offering her his hand. Sara took it and let him pull her to her feet. "So I was thinking that maybe I have been neglecting you a little bit over the last few weeks," Michael said softly, backing out of their room and tugging her with him. "And that maybe you deserve a little something to cheer you up," Michael stopped outside their bathroom.

"You haven't been neglecting me," Sara said softly, shaking her head. She leaned against the wall and pulled him to her. "But I would like to hear what this plan to cheer me up is?"

Michael smiled at her inquisitiveness. "Close your eyes," he whispered, reaching behind him and turning the knob to the door.

Sara smiled and closed her eyes. She shifted from one foot to the other. "This better be good, Scofield."

Michael chuckled and pulled her towards him again. "This way," he grinned as she stumbled forward blindly. The warmth of the bathroom hit them both as they walked into the darkness. Michael's bare feet padded gently on the floor and he moved to position Sara next to the tub. He shot a glance around the room, noting that all of the lit candles were still flickering contently on their wicks. Steam drifted up from the bath tub's hot contents, bubbles gently popped on its surface and deep red rose petals were scattered on the white porcelain. He smiled to himself. "Smell that?" he whispered into her ear, smoothing his hands over her shoulders and down her arms, finally resting his hands on her hips. "Open your eyes."

Sara couldn't stop smiling when she opened her eyes. It had been so long since Michael had set up something so intimate and so romantic. The candles were all gorgeous, casting dancing shadows around the room. Sara turned back to Michael, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Is this just for me. . . or for us?"

"You," he smiled softly, dropping his gaze to where his hands were busily undoing her shirt buttons. "But, it can be for us...I mean, if you want," Michael dismissed his words casually, tossing them from his mouth while Sara's shirt dropped to the floor.

"I want," Sara whispered, pressing a kiss to his neck. She ran her tongue over his Adam’s apple, sucking gently. "I want you."

Michael licked his lips and forced his eyes open again. "While I appreciate your flattery...we are still repairing," Michael said firmly, unzipping her jeans and letting them fall to the floor. "So, let me do this for you. Please," he pouted innocently.

Sara glanced down at her nearly-nude form, then looked back up at Michael. Leaning in, she brushed her lips across his. "You can do whatever you want to me, baby."

"Great," Michael kissed her back, reaching behind her and unclipping her bra. It went loose, falling forward and sliding off her arms. Sara's breasts jiggled into view and he sucked in a breath, restraining himself from touching her skin. This wasn't about him, it was abut Sara. His hands glided down her ribcage, barely touching her skin before tucking under the waistband of her underwear and pushing it down her legs. When she stepped from her panties, Michael took her hand in his and gently helped her into the bath.

Sara settled into the suds, resting her head on the edge of the bathtub. She looked to Michael who seemed more than content to be just watching her. She shifted in the tub, letting out a soft moan of contentment. "Are you going to join me?"

"Whatever you want," Michael smiled, reaching behind his head and pulling his shirt off. "But this doesn't have to mean anything," he clarified as he stepped from his discarded pants and boxers. "I'm not expecting anything, okay?" He told her softly as he stepped into the other end of the tub and leant back against the cool edge, letting the water warm his body.

"Michael?" Sara let out another content sigh as she watched her husband strip down and get into the bathtub. She shifted slightly, making room for him in the tub, before putting her legs back out. She smiled as they slicked against Michael's. "You don't have to be so . . . cordial about this."

"But that's who I am," Michael shifted forward in the bath and rose petals lapped at his skin, riding on top of small waves that rippled around their bodies. He motioned Sara forward with a crooked finger and soaked a sponge in the water. When Sara scooted forward, he lifted the sponge and let the warm droplets trickle down her shoulder.

Sara smiled as Michael began to slowly sponge her off. Leaning forward a little more, she closed the gap between them, kissing him softly. They hadn't had a night like this in too long, and she hoped everything would go perfect. Bringing her arms up, she looped them around his neck. "Do you know how much I love you?"

Michael hummed contently against her lips as he kissed her again. "Do you know how much I love you?" he repeated her question, giving her a smile and plunging the sponge back into the water. He lifted it again and watched her eyes flutter closed as he let the water trickle down her back.

"Michael?" Sara murmured, keeping her eyes closed. She tilted her head back, and moaned, loving the feel of the water on her. "Are you doing this because you want to, or because you think you should?"

"I am doing this..." Michael let another sponge full of water trickle down her body, watching it stream down the valley of her breasts. "...because I want to and because you deserve it," he whispered. He let the sponge float around the bath when he sat back against the porcelain side, sinking lower and letting the water cover his shoulders.

Sara leaned back against her side of the tub, smiling as she watched him sit on his side. She ran her toes over his thigh and smiled sweetly at him. "Thank you for being the most amazing husband."

"You're welcome," he smiled, feeling her delicate feet tickle his thigh under the bubbles. "Thank you for being my wife," he quipped, reaching out through the murky water and running his hand over the smooth skin of her leg.

Sara leaned her head against the porcelain, closing her eyes and silently willing his hand to move up higher. She scooted down in the water, moving closer to him and whispered, "Hey, Michael?"

"Hmmm?" He watched her with a wicked smile, teasing her skin with his fingers under the pearly bubbles.

Sara sat up, leaning forward and moving closer to him. Brushing her lips across his, she asked, "Are you planning on making love to me?"

Michael pressed his mouth to hers and held her body to his. Sara stretched out in the tub until she was lying fully on top of him and covering his body with hers. "Do you want me to?" He asked with a gruff whisper against her lips.

"I do," Sara murmured, pressing her body to his in the warm water. "Will you make love to me, Michael? Please."

Her plea was enough to get Michael's heart racing and it took off, pounding in his chest and sending blood to every single muscle. One in particular caught the brunt of the excess circulation, springing to life against Sara's thigh under the water. Michael gave her another suave grin, lifting his hand from the water where the warm droplets fell back to the bath with a splash, and cupping her cheek with his palm. "Here?" he panted against her lips.

"Right here," Sara murmured, meeting his lips in a long, slow kiss. She moved in the water, straddling his waist. "Right now."

The water splashed against the side of the bath when Sara moved to sit on top of him. Thankfully, whoever had lived in their house before them, had known the importance of a large tub. Michael's hands move to rest against Sara's hip, holding her still as she shifted over his painfully rigid erection. They hadn't had sex for nine days, but who was counting. Michael sat up in the bath and the waves crashed against his waist and Sara's thighs that poked out of the water. With a growl, Michael pulled her torso to him and his mouth found her nipple, sucking at the rosé flesh hungrily.

Sara let out a moan, tossing her head back until the ends of her red hair fell back into the water. "Oh, Michael. . ." She shifted on his lap, letting out another moan. "Let's never, ever wait this long again."

Michael took advantage of her new, gloriously revealing position and trailed his tongue down in between her breasts, moaning against her skin with each wet assault. "Deal," he muttered huskily. He let one of his hands slid under the water and stroke up and down his length a few times before shifted his attention to Sara's underwater paradise. He let his fingers dance around her entrance, gently stroking her majora, minora and any other labia Sara happened to have down there. His thumb pad pressed itself to her clitoris and he shuddered when he heard her groan his name.

"God, yes, Michael," Sara whispered. She pulled her head back up, kissing him long and hard. Running her own hand under the water, she took his length in her palm and began to gently stroke. Moving her kisses down to his neck, she whispered, "I want you in me."

Michael kissed her back, letting his tongue invade her mouth and leave his taste on her taste buds. Her strokes sent a surge through his body again and he pulled his lips apart quickly. His eyes were still closed and their breathes mingled with each other as they panted. "Do it," Michael told her firmly, his voice deep and velvety as it barked its order. "Take me there," he panted with a grunt.

Sara moaned against his neck, using her hand to slowly glide him inside her. She shifted her hips against him, slowly thrusting until he was all the way inside of her. "How does that feel?"

Michael groaned as she guided him into her and then his breath caught when he was hidden within her folds. "Ahhh..." Michael moaned, unable to construct a proper word against the smooth, milky skin of Sara's collarbone. His stomach tingled and his breath left his body with audible sighs. "...you feel..." he stammered as she moved herself up and then fell back down onto him slowly. "...God, I've missed you..." he admitted breathlessly and captured her mouth for another searing kiss.

Sara moved up and down on him again, kissing him back slowly. "I've missed you too, Michael." She pulled away from the kiss. "Let's never. . never let anything come between us."

Michael laughed dirtily. "Unless I'm between us...and you're coming," he smirked.

Sara laughed loudly, tossing her head back again. She met his lips in another kiss. "You're something else, Scofield."

"Yeah?" Michael panted gruffly, biting his bottom lip and thrusting up into Sara's baking hot core roughly. He gripped at her shivering body, holding it to him while he kissed along her jaw and down her neck. He repeated his gesture of quickly exciting Sara's nerves and smiled against her skin when she tensed in his arms, clawing at his skin. "I can't help myself."

"You're going to make me come, Michael," Sara murmured, burying her head in his neck. She nipped gently at his moist skin, letting out a long moan. "Is that what you want? Will you come with me?"

"God, yes," Michael hissed, digging his fingertips into her skin gently as his orgasm approached. They were dancing a well timed piece between lovers, tossing their playful banter back and fourth together with their secret weapons. Michael knew just how to get Sara worked up, and likewise her with him. Michael snaked a hand between their bodies and furiously rubbed against Sara's sensitive nub, grinning up at her pleasure ridden features and taking her higher to her goal.

"I love you," Sara groaned out as her orgasm ripped through her. She stilled on top of him, her body spasming just slightly. The words became a mantra on her lips. "I love you. . . I love you. . ."

Michael's climax was not far behind, striking him blind within second of Sara's. The pressure in his groin exploded and he emptied himself into Sara, who froze against his skin, shuddering only slightly with each of his shallow, jerky thrusts. Michael crushed his lips to Sara's and balled up a fistful of her hair, holding her face to his as their organs spasmed and twitched against each other. He broke the kiss and pressed his damp forehead to hers, letting his hand relax and stroking her wet tendrils with his fingers. "I love you," he panted, the words almost invisible as they left his mouth. "Don't ever forget that.”

Sara pressed her lips to his, the long kisses doing little to help with calming her heavy breathing. She pulled away and placed kisses to his cheeks and jaw and the corner of his mouth. "I'm going to do a better job of being here for you."

"You don't need to do a better job," Michael told her firmly, gasping for breaths. "I need to start letting you do the job you're already doing."

"Do you think it would be possible. . ." Sara murmured, her breath coming out cool and condensed against his skin. "To make love every day for the rest of our lives?"

"I don't see why not," Michael laughed, crushing her to his chest and falling back in the bath. The now cooled water rippled against their skin and a torrent splashed over the side of the bath, landing on the tiles with a smack. "Oops," he grinned innocently.

  
Sara leaned against Michael, getting comfortable on the leather couch in the office. Dr. Fry wasn't in the room yet, and Sara had busied herself tracing all the lines on Michael's hands. They hadn't insisted on dressing up so nicely this week; instead, they decided the more comfortable they were the better. They had come pretty close to being late when Michael had insisted on dragging Sara into the shower after she was done getting ready. Not that she complained. In the five days since their rendezvous in the bathtub, she had lost count of how many times they had made love. She kissed his hand, "Let's go on vacation."

"Sure...When you're done making love to my hand," he quipped with a grin. "Where did you have in mind?"

Sara dropped his hand and gave him a playful glare before shrugging. "Somewhere romantic." She started to continue, but Dr. Fry walked into the room. She sat up a little straighter as he greeted them.

"Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Scofield. Your past week has been better than the last few?"

Michael smirked and gave Sara a glance. "Yes," he said simply. "Yes, it has."

"Good, I am glad to see you are making progress," he smiled; taking a seat opposite them in his well used chair and crossing his legs over. "Now..." he began, flipping open his note pad and skimming his notes. "...how has this week been, Sara?”

"Erm..." Michael squeezed Sara's hand back. "...well we both took the week off work to...reconnect," he smiled. "We've spent a lot of time together."

"A lot of time together," Sara echoed, nodding at Dr. Fry. She had Michael basically had not let each other out of their sight over the passed week.

Dr. Fry looked to Sara. "What ways do you feel as though you've reconnected?"

"Emotionally," Sara nodded. "Physically. We've talked, and I think we both realize we need to be more open and understanding."

Dr. Fry scribbled furiously. "And by physically you mean sex?" He looked up towards Sara.

"Ah. . ." Sara hesitated. She wasn't sure why she was so uncomfortable talking about their sex life. "Yes, sex."

Dr. Fry gave her a quick smirk as he wrote something down. "And Michael," he lifted his head. "How do you feel this week?"

"Things have been really good," Sara nodded slowly. She squeezed Michael's hand and glanced from him to the doctor. "Michael hasn't had any episodes. We've been getting along a lot better."

Dr. Fry turned to Michael. "And how do you feel now that you haven't had any episodes, Michael?"

"Ecstatic?" Michael tested the word on his tongue. "I feel like a man with a second chance," He moved his hand to rest gently on Sara's knee.

"And do you think it has because you are having sex again?"

"Making love," Michael corrected, smiling at Sara. "We don't have sex."

"My apologies," Dr. Fry said with a nod. "Who re-initiated the love making, Sara?"

Sara leaned in closer to Michael again, a small smile playing across her face. "I'd say Michael did first. But we both did our fair share of initiating this past week?" She looked to her husband. "Right?"

Michael nodded enthusiastically. "Oh most definitely," he said with a faux serious tone.

Sara nudged him slightly and tried to keep her expression serious. Dr. Fry eyed the Scofields closely before glancing back down to his notepad.

"How do you feel about children, Mr. Scofield?"

"Children?" Michael asked, his smile fading. "I've never really thought about it."

Dr. Fry nodded, making another note on his pad. He looked to Michael again. "How long have you and Sara been married?"

Michael glanced at Sara and paused to smile at her lovingly. "Two years, five months and 24 days," he chimed. "I would never forget our wedding day."

Dr. Fry smiled at Michael and made another note. "And in those two years, five months and 24 days. . . the subject of children hasn't come up?"

"Maybe once or twice," Michael shrugged. "I don't know," he laughed nervously and looked at Sara again.

"Does your brother have children?" Dr. Fry asked, not looking up from his pad.

"My brother has a son. Our nephew LJ," Michael told him shuffling in his seat and resting his ankle against his knee.

"Would you like children, Sara?" Dr. Fry asked.

"Of course I want children," Sara nodded slowly. "What woman doesn't, right?" She let out a nervous laugh and shrugged. "I want at least one baby, I know that. We'll see how good of a mom I can be."

Dr. Fry looked to Michael. "How do you feel about Sara wanting a baby?"

"Sara can have whatever she wants," Michael leant sideways and brushed his lips over the tip of her nose. "I wouldn't mind being a father," he smiled. "I suppose I should have realised Sara wanted kids when we stopped using condoms and she went on the pill. I don't think she suggested it for my pleasure," he grinned.

"Sara, say you had a child with Michael and he had an episode. How would that make you feel?"

Sara nudged Michael, a little harder this time, and paused when the doctor asked the question she had been dreading. "I'm sure it would scare me. Just because I would worry about our child's reaction to him. I'd worry that Michael wouldn't want to be alone with our baby, but I would not ever be fearful for our baby's safety. Ever."

Dr. Fry nodded and smiled at her, then turned to Michael. "And you, Michael?"

Michael rearranged himself again, the question causing him physical as well as mental discomfort. "I'd be scared, I won't deny that," he started, rubbing his thumb over Sara's knuckles harshly. "I'd probably want to remove myself from the situation."

Dr. Fry nodded slowly and pressed the end of his pen to his lip while he considered his next question. "Would you consider leaving Sara and the baby?"

"Not indefinitely, but I would find a safe place. Probably at my brother's."

"Feelings are very different when a child is involved," Dr. Fry told them both sternly. "There are all sorts of things you can say now, that may not apply when there is a young one around."

"This marriage is the most important thing in my life," Sara said softly. "I want to have children with Michael. I always have. But if it's something he isn't comfortable with then I'm okay with no babies. Having him is the most important thing to me. I'm not willing to sacrifice our relationship."

Dr. Fry scribbled something else down. "How do you feel about that, Michael?"

Michael turned to Sara and gave her a boyish grin. "Always?" he asked her softly. "Even in Fox River?"

Sara rolled her eyes, reaching over and pinching his side. "Oh yeah, Michael. I never told you? I came home every night and imagined our little rugrats running around. I had about five different ways planned to get you into that conjugal room!"

Dr. Fry sat his pen down. "Do you find it easier to joke about your time in prison as time goes by, Michael?"

"To be honest, prison didn't bother me as much as it bothered Sara. I was there to get a job done. I wasn't planning on being there long so I didn't have to worry about the long term." Michael said evenly. "Lincoln and I were joking about going back the day after we got out!" her laughed, remembering their conversation.

"Why did you joke about going back?" Dr. Fry asked with a puzzled smile.

Michael shrugged. "I don't know. It was a laughable notion at the time."

Sara smirked over at Michael. "Really, he just joked about going back because he missed me."

Dr. Fry glanced from Sara to Michael. "Did you miss her right away?"

"Yes," Michael whispered into his shirt. His head was lowered and his smile had faded. "We were driving across country, still in our prison issues and I couldn't stop thinking about her...how I had ruined her life."

"Did you expect to see Michael again Sara?"

"No." Sara answered quickly. "At first I never thought I'd see Michael Scofield again. I didn't even want to see him. In my opinion, all I had been was a pawn. He had used me, he got what he wanted. Why would he contact me again? But then. . ." She paused. "When you care about someone, you can't hide those feelings forever."

Dr. Fry nodded again, then looked to Michael. "Do you think the way you two met and what happened in the beginning of your relationship will be hard to relay to your children?"

Michael laughed again at the mention of children. "Do you have children, Dr. Fry?" Michael smiled.

"I do." Dr. Fry took his glasses off and nodded at Michael. "Two sons and one daughter."

Sara spoke up before Michael could say anything. "I've thought about it. Every little kid eventually wants to know how Mommy and Daddy met. It won't be the easiest thing to explain, but we'll find a way. We always do."

"What will you tell them about Michael's tattoos, Sara?" Dr. Fry asked, sitting back in his chair and replacing his glasses. "Would the stereotype of a tattoo not work against you?"

"I'll tell them the truth," Sara shrugged. "That their daddy got those tattoos to help out their uncle. And that if they have brothers and sisters, I would hope they would learn a good lesson from their father. In this family, we do whatever it takes to help each other out. Michael's tattoos are a visual reminder of that."

Dr. Fry took noted avidly as she spoke. He inhaled deeply, skimming over the notes from last week, flicking between a few pages. Finally, he looked up to Michael. "Have you had any nightmares this week?"

Michael felt Sara's eyes on his profile but he didn't look at her. "Yes. One. The night we made love for the first time," Michael admitted in a low voice.

"Mmm hmm, and where did you sleep that night?" Dr. Fry asked him quickly.

Michael sighed a breath proudly. "In my bed, right next to my wife."

Sara turned to him, surprised by the revelation. Michael's nightmares usually always woke her up. She chose her words carefully. "Was it. . . the same nightmare you've been having?"

"Yes," he gulped, turning to her with flushed cheeks.

Sara pressed her hand gently to his cheek, hoping it would cool him down. "You should have told me. You can tell me these things. It's the only way we can make them better."

Dr. Fry made another long note. "And Michael, why didn't you tell Sara?"

Michael took Sara's hand in his and leaned into them both, letting her hand lay gently on his skin. "Because this time I wasn't afraid," he smiled nervously.

Sara returned his smile, and before she could think better of it, she leaned forward pressing her lips to his in a quick kiss. It was over as quick as it started and she turned back to Dr. Fry, clearing her throat.

Dr. Fry turned back to Michael. "So, do you think your episodes will start becoming more controllable?"

Michael nodded. "Now that I can talk about them, I think they will be easily controlled."

"Do you, Sara?" Dr. Fry asked, peering over the top of his glasses and twiddling his pen.

"I do," Sara said honestly, reaching over and squeezing Michael's knee. "I've always thought he could do it, and I've always been willing to help him. It was just a matter of him letting me."


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael finally reveals the contents of his nightmare to Sara and Dr. Fry.

Michael was enjoying his day off. In his eyes, there was nothing better than sitting a home all day with a big bowl of sugary popcorn watching a Mythbusters marathon on the Discovery Channel. Actually, he could think of one thing better and that was doing it with Sara, who sadly had to work today. His yearning for companionship had become so strong, he almost invited LJ over, but then, thought better of it. LJ was having school issues, namely not actually going, and Lincoln was getting mad at him. Even if Michael promised to help him catch up, Lincoln would never forgive him if he encouraged LJ to skip school.

Sara managed to talk her way out of work early. The ER was fairly slow, and she had spent most of the morning sitting around, nursing a can of seven-up when she wasn't dealing with a laceration in Exam B. The new doctor, luckily, was a bigger workaholic than her, and had insisted she go home. Opening the front door, she dropped her purse to the floor and announced. "Honey! I'm home."

"Great!" Michael cheered, tripping over his feet to get off the couch, spilling popcorn in the process. He ran at Sara, wrapping his arms around her hips and lifting her from the floor with a giggle and a growl. He spun them around and then let Sara slide through his arm and down his body with a sexily, well-planned moan. "Mmmm, I missed you," he breathed and then seized her lips in a long, arduous kiss.

"Good to see you too!" Sara murmured against his lips, letting her body melt into his. She felt less than sexy in her aquamarine scrubs, but Michael seemed to not care at all. She kissed him again and pulled away with a smile. "Was someone bored?"

"All...day," Michael exaggerated with a roll of his eyes. "But I have had time to think," he said tapping the end of her nose with his finger playfully. "About therapy the other day.”

Sara arched an eyebrow, and nodded, wiggling out of his grasp. "Which part of therapy?" She moved towards the stairs. "Can we discuss it in the bedroom, baby. I need out of these scrubs."

"Sure," Michael nodded and followed her obediently to the bedroom. He leaned against the doorframe and watched her undress and buzz around the bedroom as she changed. "I was thinking about the kids part," he admitted.

Sara dropped her scrubs into a pile on the floor and grabbed her favourite pair of jeans, pulling them on slowly. "I didn't mean to scare you with that, Michael. But I do think about having a baby. A little something you and I created together."

"No, I know," he reassured her. "I was just wondering..." he trailed off, shuffling his feet on the carpet sheepishly.

Sara pulled a sweater over her head, and crawled onto the bed, motioning towards Michael. She stood on her knees and waited for him to walk over to her before wrapping her arms around his standing figure, kissing him on the neck. "You wonder what, baby?"

Michael smiled when he felt Sara's lips on his skin and he almost lost his train of thought. "I was wondering...how many did you want?" he grinned, waiting for her reaction.

Sara pulled away slightly, leaving her arms around his neck. Was he saying he wanted to have babies too? She shrugged a little and smiled. "Maybe just one for now. We'll see how we handle one. But he or she will need a brother or sister sometime, right? I'd like a boy and a girl."

"I'm sure I can do that," he beamed, kissing her quickly. "So, how long after you come off the pill, can we start trying?" he asked her seriously, pulling on her arms as he stepped from the bed and encouraged her back downstairs with him. "I made dinner, by the way," he said smoothly. "If you don't mind fish...again," he chuckled. "You have to help me cook other things," he insisted.

Sara stopped walking and stood, her arms crossed in front of her. She arched an eyebrow and looked at him closely. "Wait, wait, wait. Excuse me. Are you saying you're ready to try?"

"Why not?" Michael chimed as he pulled the oven open and dodged the heat that so often burned his face. He grabbed the oven mitt from the counter and lifted the tray from the oven where it had been slowly cooking and keeping warm.

"Michael, this is a big deal. . ." Sara trailed off. She couldn't believe her Michael was being so calm and rational. "I mean. . . you can miss the pill for two days, and get pregnant. We could start trying right away."

"You've stopped already?" he asked puzzled, sliding the breaded cod from the hot, metal oven tray onto the plates he had set out for their meal. Michael discarded the tray back on top of the oven and pulled the lid off of a chrome saucepan that contained some lightly steamed potatoes. He began jabbing them with a fork and then shaking them onto the two plates.

"No." Sara shook her head quickly. "I'm just saying, if I don't take my pill tonight and if I don't take it tomorrow. . . and if I just completely stop, then there's not a certain amount of time we have to wait to start having sex." Sara grabbed a tiny potato and popped it in her mouth. "If you're sure about this?"

"I am," Michael assured her with a grin. "So don't bother asking me if I am just doing this for you..." he warned coyly. "...you egotist," he teased and popped a potato into his mouth before ducking from Sara's light hearted slap.

Sara laughed softly, moving to wrap her arms around Michael. She pressed her face into his chest. "I want a baby with you more than anything."

"Good," Michael kissed the top of her soft, rustic locks and rubbed her back gently. He slipped from her embrace, moving to the back of the kitchen door and picking up the pen that hung from a yellow piece of string attached to their calendar. He tapped the days with the blue tip, counting forward two days until he found the one he wanted. "Baby making day..." he sang to himself as he wrote the same words on the calendar.

Sara laughed softly, watching him write the words on the calendar. She placed her hand on her hip and gave him a look. "It might not be easy, you know."

Michael quirked his eyebrow and shrugged. "How hard can it be?" He smiled, uttering his famous last words.

Sara walked over to him and kissed him softly. "Just don't get your hopes up, Michael. This baby thing can take. . . awhile."

  
 _How hard can it be?_ Michael’s words rang through his head and he grinned wickedly to himself as he slid his brass key into its mechanism and turned it. He made sure it was loud and that he clattered through the door clumsily. He wanted Sara to know he was home. Sara’s eyes fell on his as he stood in the doorway, a smile plastered to his face and his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He kicked the door shut behind him and let his jacket, bag, and keys fall to the floor. “Let’s make a baby!” he growled, charging at the couch and tackling Sara against the cushions.

Sara laughed, wrapping her arms around Michael's neck and making a small 'oof' noise as they tumbled down onto the couch cushions. She wiggled under him for a second then pressed a short kiss to his smiling lips. "Good to see you too."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he smiled against her skin, dipping his head and playfully sucking at her neck. "I've been thinking about this all day...had to go to the bathroom twice," he chuckled, tucking her hair out the way as he kissed around her throat and up next to her earlobe. "Why are you still dressed?" he quipped playfully with a grin.

"Michael!" Sara laughed, and rolled her eyes slightly, trying to wiggle away from him. "Seriously." She gave him a chaste kiss and smiled. "We could at least make it to the bedroom first."

“Why wait? The bedroom is all the way upstairs, “ he whined, tugging at her blouse. “Seriously Sara, why are there still clothes on your gorgeous body,” he whispered gruffly. “I know I’m good but com’on…” he grinned, pressing his lips to her and pinning her to the couch.

Sara rolled her eyes, moving under him again and slowly unbuttoning her shirt. She slid it off and smiled up at him. "You're still clothed, you know."

"Minor detail," he breathed, taking in her half naked torso while he unbuttoned his own shirt and tore it from his body. "God..." he breathed, unbuckling his belt and his pants. He stood next to the couch and pushed them down his legs and stepped from them quickly. "...our kids are going to be so cute," he gushed before diving back onto the couch.

Sara smiled up at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him softly. He had jumped into this baby thing head first. Nuzzling his neck she whispered, "I hope our babies are as cute as you."

Michael shook his head and rested his elbows on either side of Sara's head. His elbows sunk into the cushions and he gently stroked the hair from her face with a feathery touch. "You know all the cute kids look like their moms," he said sternly, closing his eyes and pressing his lips to hers a little less hastily than before.

"You're very sweet," Sara slowly kissed him back. Pulling away just slightly, she undid the button on her pants. "Now, are you going to help me get out of these or what?"

Michael sucked in an excited breath and scrambled off of Sara quickly. He grabbed hold of the bottom of her pant legs and pulled quickly. Sara's tiny frame bobbed up and down on the cushions and with a quick tug, Michael yanked the pants off her legs and they were sent flying behind him where they crashed into a floor lamp. The lamp wobbled and then toppled over with a clatter. Michael looked back to Sara and quirked an eyebrow. "Oops," he giggled excitedly with a shrug. "Now..." he said with a fake tone of seriousness as he climbed back over the top of Sara. "...does position matter?"

Sara giggled coyly and pulled him down for a kiss. "I think I read somewhere once. . . that it works better if you're on top. The flow or something, I don't know." She paused, then repeated herself. "I don't know. I've never tried to make a baby before." He laughed again and fidgeted on top of her, and Sara arched an eyebrow. "Really, Michael. I don't think you've ever been this excited about sex before."

"It's not sex," he corrected her with a kiss. "This is making love..." another kiss and a slow grind of his arousal against hers. "...and hopefully, a baby," he grinned boyishly.

  
Sara stood inside their spacious bathroom, staring down at the little plastic stick. She fidgeted for a moment, then walked back to the bedroom, sitting down on the bed. Staring at the damn thing wasn't going to make the results show up any quicker. She looked to Michael, who seemed to be very interested in his sock drawer. "What are you thinking?"

Michael paused his rummaging and rested against the top of the dresser. He quickly pushed the draw closed and spun to face her. "You sound like Dr. Fry," he joked weakly. Michael began pacing in front of her, shaking his hands up and down and mumbling to himself.

"Michael, calm down," Sara said soothingly, reaching out for him. She caught his arm in her hand and attempted to pull him to her. "Why are you so nervous?"

"Because I really, really want this," he whispered, moving to sit next to her on the bed. His weight hit the mattress and they both bounced a little. "Because we want this," he said, gripping her hand firmly and looking to her.

"We do," Sara leaned over and kissed him softly. She pulled away and hopped off the bed, going to pick up the test. She stared at it for a minute before walking back out to the bedroom and leaning against the doorframe, test still in her hands.

"What?" Michael said standing up abruptly. "And?" His eyes flicked to the test in her hands. "Sara, are we parents?"

"Nope." Sara shook her head, and walked back into the bathroom, dropping the test into the trashcan. "Not yet." She moved out of the bedroom, and towards the stairs. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Uh...Sara?" Michael stopped her with a soft grip on her wrist. He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her tightly, smoothing his hands over her back and inhaling the scent of her hair.

Sara wrapped her arms around his middle tightly, and tilted her head up, brushing her lips across his neck. "It's okay, Michael. Really." She pulled away and shrugged. "We knew it might not be easy."

"Are you sure?" He asked her, stroking his fingers through her hair and twirling the ends in his fingers.

"We've only been trying a month, Michael," Sara shrugged. She moved back towards the stairs, leaning against the banister. "You're not getting sick of trying, are you?"

Michael grinned at her wickedly and chased her downstairs with a primal scream.

  
They were sitting further apart from each other again. Sara noticed as soon as she sat down on the leather couch she had become used to over the past weeks. Wanting to fix things before their therapist entered, Sara turned to her husband. "Michael, is something wrong?"

Michael sighed and turned and gave Sara a lopsided smile. "I'm fine," he lied; turning back to face the empty chair before the sudden rush of guilt over took him. Therapy was evil sometimes. "I had a nightmare," he told her suddenly but before Sara could say a word, Dr. Fry appeared.

Sara closed the gap between them, her hand seeking out Michael's and giving it a comforting squeeze. She wanted to say something, but Dr. Fry smiled at them and spoke up first.

"You look tired, Michael. How have you been?"

"Tired," Michael said a little irritated. If he looked tired, surely that was assumption enough that he was. "I'm sorry," he apologised quickly, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. "I've had a hectic week."

Sara squeezed Michael's hand again as the doctor made a note, then asked, "And what has made it hectic, Michael? Things at work or things at home?"

"A bit of both really," Michael admitted. "I can't shut off my brain and separate the two." Michael turned to Sara and smiled. "We are trying for a baby, and it's all I can think about," he grazed his thumb over her knuckles lovingly.

"This is good," Dr. Fry noted with a mumble. "And how do you feel this week, Sara?"

"I feel good," Sara told the doctor honestly. "I'm glad we're trying for a baby, but I'm trying not to get my hopes up. I know these things can take awhile. It'll happen eventually."

"May I ask how many times a day you two...make love?" Dr. Fry asked Sara, pointing towards her with his pen.

Sara blushed slightly and glanced down, shrugging. "Sometimes only once. Sometimes. . . three times? I don't know." She turned to Michael, looking for some kind of help.

"At least once," Michael nodded.

"I see, and who is the main initiator?" Dr. Fry asked them both. Sara and Michael looked between each other and Michael pursed his bottom lip as he considered the question.

"Maybe Sara," Michael said softly. "But we both really want a baby."

"Hmm," Dr. Fry scribbled a note before inhaling and continuing. "Do you think Michael is tired because he is desperate to give you a child and so is exhausting himself physically, Sara?"

"I, uh. . ." Sara's voice caught in her throat, and she coughed loudly. "I hope not. I mean, I'm not desperate for a baby. I would hope I don't make him feel that way." She turned back to look at Michael. "Is that how you feel?"

Michael looked at her quizzically. "I thought you wanted a baby like...last year," he admitted.

Sara shrugged. "Not so bad that I want it to stress you out, Michael!" She shook her head and leaned forward, pressing the tips of her fingers to her forehead. "Does everything always have to be like this? Can't we just have fun trying to make a baby?"

"I'm having fun," he smirked and Dr. Fry cleared his throat loudly. They both looked at him and he glared at Michael. "I uh...maybe I am trying to hard to please Sara?" He said quietly.

"Maybe," he agreed and his eyes fell back to his notepad as he wrote some longer notes. Michael looked to Sara and shrugged.

Dr. Fry finished writing something down then glanced back up towards Michael. "And if you two can't have a baby ultimately, how would that make you feel?"

"I'd feel hurt, but if it's not meant to be, it's not going to happen. I have faith we can be parents if some higher power wants us to be," he smiled at Sara again and leaned forward to plant a kiss on her lips. "I'd be happy just being with Sara for the rest of my life."

Sara nodded and blushed slightly as Michael kissed her. She turned to Dr. Fry. "I feel the same way. I want a baby with Michael, but I don't need a baby to make my life with him complete."

Dr. Fry made another notation then nodded. "Michael, if you could change something about Sara, what would it be?"

Sara smirked and turned towards Michael arching an eyebrow. "Yeah, Michael. And don't say nothing."

A million things crossed Michael's mind. He bit his lip playfully, trying to find fault in at least one of them. "Hmmm," he droned low in his throat, rubbing his lightly stubbled jaw with his thumb and forefinger. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out as he re-entered his thought process. He looked at the doctor and opened his mouth to speak again. "Physically or a trait?"

"Either." Dr. Fry made another note and glanced between to couple. "Both. It doesn't matter."

"Well, there is nothing I’d change about Sara's body, obviously," he whispered his last word, letting his eyes roam over her casually dressed figure and strip her naked with his imagination. "But she's not very spontaneous or adventurous...sexual. Sometimes I wish she was."

Sara's mouth fell open a little bit. She couldn't believe Michael had said that out loud. She opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was a small noise. Finally, she turned to Michael, her voice slightly snappy. "I thought you were kidding when you said you wanted to play Inmate/Prison Doctor."

Michael blushed; his cheeks turned red and burned up on his face. "Sara?" Dr. Fry interrupted her burning stare. "How does that make you feel?"

"I. . . um. . ." This was a conversation she felt more than a little uncomfortable with. She shrugged. "I thought our sex life was good."

Dr. Fry looked to Michael. "How do you think Sara could be more adventurous, Michael?"

Michael shrugged for what felt like the hundredth time since they had entered therapy. "Sara could agree to new positions, maybe?" he said sheepishly. He could feel Sara's glare and avoided looking at her.

"Do you have any fantasies, Michael?" Dr. Fry asked, halting his notes and rolling his pen in between his thumb and finger.

"I do," Michael said simply. "I'm sure it’s different to Sara's though," he finished. Dr. Fry made a grumbling noise in his chest and turned to Sara.

"What are your fantasies, Sara?" He asked unashamedly.

Sara cleared her throat. She felt like she needed some water. She was almost surprised it was so hard to discuss a lighter side to her and Michael's sex life. Her sexual encounters pre-Michael had been anything but slow and romantic. She didn't want to have flashbacks to that point in her life.

"I don't, uh. . . I don't have fantasies."

Michael snapped his head towards her and he arched an eyebrow. "You don't?" he said, a little disheartened.

"I don't, um. . ." Sara paused, drawing in a breath. She didn't want to talk about her past. She didn't want this to be about her at all. "I. . ."

Before Sara could say anything else, Dr. Fry turned to Michael. "Why do you think Sara is so uncomfortable discussing this?"

Michael's immediate thought and fear was that Sara's fantasies included morphine. He eyed her with a blank expression and gently squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I think..." he began calmly. "...that Sara's fantasies don't include me," he said, turning back to the doctor. "And that's why she doesn't want to say."

Dr. Fry looked over the rim of his glasses towards Sara. "Is that true?"

"No, that's not true!" Sara spouted, half-standing as she glared at Michael. "What? You think I'd rather think about shooting up than sleeping with you?" She moved farther down the couch and crossed her arms. "Seriously, Michael. Seriously."

Dr. Fry leant back in his chair and tilted his head at Sara's outburst. "Sara, why did you assume Michael meant drugs and not that your fantasies included other men? Surely that would have been a more likely option, no?"

Sara shrugged, picking at a loose strand on her jeans. "Michael thinks that even though he can forget I'm an addict, I can't. I just assume he thinks drugs are the first place my mind goes."

Dr. Fry looked to Michael. "Is that how you feel?"

"No, but when Sara doesn't open up I assume the worst," Michael said quietly. He scoffed a little and turned away from both of them to focus on the floor. "And she says I am a closed book."

Dr. Fry took notes and the sound of his pen against the paper was the only sound heard in the room.

"Michael. . ." Sara spoke his name slowly. She closed her eyes briefly and turned towards him. "Before you. . . sex was something that I usually participated in to get something I wanted. Namely drugs. There were a lot of games, a lot of pretending, and a lot of rough housing. A lot of things I'm not proud of, okay? But with you. . . it's sweet, and it's perfect, and it's . . it's real." She paused and shrugged. "I don't need to pretend or want more."

"Sara, it's called a fantasy because you do it with the person you love, not because you need some higher gratification out of sex," Michael murmured.

Dr. Fry's gaze darted between the two lovers and he flipped a page in his notebook with a damp fingertip. "Would you act out a fantasy with Michael, Sara?"

Sara pursed her lips and thought for a second. "Yes. As long as it was something I was comfortable with."

"And have you ever considered talking to Michael about his fantasies...drawing lines?" Dr. Fry added with a wave of his hand towards her husband.

"No." Sara tilted her head to the side and looked to Michael. "I didn't know fantasies were such a big deal until now."

Dr. Fry looked back to Michael. "What did you have in mind, Michael?"

Michael pressed his palms together and twisted his hands against each other. "I'm not sure I should say now," Michael admitted shyly.

"Go ahead, Michael!" Sara scoffed, laughing quietly. "Might as well get it all out!"

Dr. Fry observed Michael's silence and hunched posture. "Who do you think controls the relationship, Sara?" he asked her with implication and a slightly upturned smile.

"I think Michael is too passive for his own good at times," Sara snapped, crossing her arms. "Come on, Michael. What are you so afraid of?"

"No, it's okay, you don't really want to know," Michael sneered, crossing his own arms and leaning into the couch arm harshly.

"No. Come on. It's therapy. . ." Sara motioned around the room. "It's about sharing. Right, Dr. Fry? Come on, Michael. Share!"

"Maybe Michael would feel better if you agreed to share yours with him, Sara?" Dr. Fry interrupted. "Would you do that for him?" As if the doctor had read his mind, Michael turned to her and waited for her answer with pleading eyes.

Sara clenched her jaw and moved another length away from Michael. Crossing her arms, she sent a steely gaze in his direction. She wanted to end the conversation, and to upset him. "My fantasies? Oh, you know. They give me access to the medicine cabinet again at work, and I steal a couple vials. A few needles. I get a motel room and spend a couple hours with my first true love." She paused and closed her eyes for a second. "God, I miss it sometimes."

Michael clenched his fists and pushed himself to his feet, stalked towards the door and wrenched it open. He stormed out, slamming it behind him and he heaved for steady breath as he paced the waiting room. He felt like hitting something, anything. The coffee table, littered with dog eared magazines and a bowl of pot pouri looked inviting. The guy sitting to his left, eyeing him suspiciously with a downward turn of his nose, also looked like a lovely target. Michael took a huge breath and went back into the room but he stood with his back pressed against the door and kept his focus on the doctor's desk.

"Sara. . ." Dr. Fry said her name a bit softer and glanced towards Michael. "Do you really mean that, or are you trying to upset Michael like he upset you?"

Sara pursed her lips and shrugged. "What's it matter?"

Dr. Fry looked to Michael. "Michael, does it matter to you?"

"It matters," he admitted quietly, the anger still evident in his voice. "And it hurts because rather than lash out at me, she lashes out at herself...and that kills me inside." Michael sighed and turned to Sara. "I just controlled an episode by the way...if you care."

"I'd rather lash out at myself than lash out at Michael," Sara kept her eyes on Dr. Fry. "It's easier to hurt myself than to hurt him." She glanced down to her hands, sighing quietly and softening noticeably. "And I do care."

Dr. Fry looked at Michael. "What do you think makes you capable of controlling your episodes now, Michael?"

Michael shrugged. "I felt angry, removed myself from the situation and..." he paused, pushing himself from the door and pacing past the couch. Dr. Fry watched him move, waiting for more to note down. "...and..." he repeated.

"And you felt calm?" Dr. Fry offered.

Michael laughed. "No, because the guy, sitting in your waiting room?" he pointed towards the door. "I wanted to hit him so badly."

"But you don't know him..." Dr. Fry said rationally.

"I know," Michael said softly, running his hand over his soft, downy scalp.

Dr. Fry made another notation, then glanced from Sara to Michael. "Michael, do you only have violent tendencies when Sara upsets you?"

Michael paused and looked at Sara. Did he? "I don't think so...not exclusively," Michael said casually. "It's not just Sara. My brother makes me angry too sometimes. It's just a thing I have with being shouted at...I feel..." Michael paused again, looking to the floor. "...I feel the need to defend myself and violence makes me feel better."

"Well of course it does," Dr. Fry agreed. "The rush of adrenaline makes your body think it is happy." he scribbled some more notes. "Sara, do you talk to Michael about his childhood?"

"I try," Sara nodded. "We talked about it a lot when we first got together and recently he's been very, very open with me. I'm glad he feels like he should share things with me now. That's he trusts me enough."

Dr. Fry looked to Michael. "And do you feel like you're in complete understand of Sara's past?"

"She throws it in my face enough," Michael snapped quickly before holding his hand over his mouth and taking a long, deep breath. He turned to her and let his eyes flicker open. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."

"No, he's right," Sara twirled the end of her hair around her finger nervously. "I, ah. . . it's a defensive mechanism, I guess. It makes me feel like I can keep myself at an arm's length away from him when I need to."

Dr. Fry made a note and hummed his response quietly. "Do you feel like you need to do that with Michael? Keep your distance, I mean?"

"Sometimes." Sara pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. "Only when he upsets me. I'd rather pull away then deal with what's going on. I'd rather take my anger out on myself than on him. I don't like hurting him, but I realize I do."

Dr. Fry looked at Michael. "How do you feel about Sara the majority of the time?"

Michael moved back over towards the couch and landed back against the leather with a sigh. "I love her, all the time. I don't like getting angry, and I don't like getting angry around her. I suppose that's why I storm away from our arguments so much. That and..." he paused, his words catching in his throat when he remembered his nightmare. He stared distantly at his knees and his brow furrowed.

Dr. Fry sat his pen down and looked at Michael. "And what?" he prompted gently.

"And nothing," he muttered, closing himself off.

Sara kept her gaze on her hands. "You can say it, Michael."

Dr. Fry glanced between them. "Do you worry you'll hurt Sara?"

"Yes," Michael admitted. "I have a reoccurring nightmare..." he began, looking towards Sara for reassurance to continue.

Sara moved back closer to Michael, squeezing his knee. "It's okay."

"...and in it, I do hurt Sara during an episode." Dr. Fry sat forward in his chair, his suspicion thoroughly aroused.

"But Michael would never hurt me!" Sara quickly said, leaning forward. She turned to Michael. "You would never hurt me, Michael. Never. Somewhere inside that big, complicated brain of yours, you have to know you would never, never hurt me."

Dr. Fry rubbing his chin. "How do you hurt Sara?"

Michael's eyebrows twitched nervously and he rubbed his hands on his pants. "I uh..." he moistened his lips and swallowed awkwardly. "...I force her into sex. I hold her down, I hold her arms against the floor so tightly my hands hurt and I force myself upon her over and over."

Dr. Fry placed his note pad on the table in between them and pressed his fingertip together. "You rape Sara,” he said simply and Michael cringed at the word when it was said out loud.

"Yes." Michael looked up at him with a dark voice. "And it scares me."

"Why?" Dr. Fry asked softly.

"Because I like it," Michael said with an unchanged expression. "I have uh..." he shifted his gaze again and lightly scratched behind his ear. "...I sleep on the couch because I sometimes wake up from a nightmare aroused."

Sara's grip loosened on his knee. "You like it?" She paused, trying to decide how to react. "You've never told me that before."

Dr. Fry opened his mouth to speak, but Sara continued on. "What about me? How do I act when you rape me?”

Michael turned to her to answer and was thankful she wasn't shouting at him. "You cry," he said with a shaking voice. "And you beg me to stop, but I don't."

"I cry," Sara repeated. "And I beg you to stop. And you don't." She swallowed hard. "And you like it."

"That's why it's a nightmare," Michael whispered, lowering his head again. "I don't know why I wake up...you know..." he trailed off. "I don't want to."

"That's not. . ." Sara trailed off. She wanted some water, or just out of that room. "That's not your fantasy, is it, Michael?"

Michael whipped his head to her and seized her hand from the leather couch. "God, no. My fantasy is...tame by comparison," he let out a short, unintended laugh.

"Good," Sara murmured. She pulled her hand away from Michael and laid it in her lap, looking to Dr. Fry.

"Sara, how do you feel right now?" Dr. Fry asked her concerned about her sudden disapproval of her husband's contact.

"I'm not sure," Sara murmured, giving a small shrug. "I knew what Michael's dreams were about to an extent. I guess I just don't know where it comes from for him to even have nightmares about things like that?" She shrugged again. "I don't dream about hurting Michael."

Dr. Fry nodded, made a notation, then turned to Michael. "Do you ever think about hurting her in other ways?"

Michael shook his head. "No. My nightmare is my darkest fear. It's getting to a point where I am scared to sleep at night, especially when we have had a fantastic day."

"Does it make you hesitant to have sex now, Sara?" Dr. Fry asked her.

"No. . ." Sara drew out the word, shaking her head slowly. "Like I said before, I truly believe Michael would never hurt me." She hesitated again, then finally spoke. "I've had a lot of . . . bad sexual experience in the past. I just wish my relationship with Michael could be completely separate from that. I wish he didn't think about those things."

Dr. Fry tapped his pen on the notebook. "Have you discussed Sara's sexual history in depth, Michael?"

"No," Michael sighed on a breath. "Who Sara was then and who Sara is now are two different people to me. It doesn't matter."

"If that is true," Dr. Fry began, pointing his pen towards Michael as he leant back in his chair. "Then why do you think you have this nightmare?"

Michael sat, frozen in thought. Why did he? Dr. Fry looked to Sara. "I think Michael has this nightmare because his subconscious interprets your past differently to you. He wasn't there, so he imagines how it was for you, and because the mind can be a cruel object, it puts him as your tormentor."

Sara felt something tug in her chest. She felt the sharp prick of tears, and blinked rapidly. She would not cry in that room. Turning to Michael, her voice caught in her throat for a moment. "See, all I do is cause you pain. I trigger your LLI episodes, I make want to punch some stranger in the face! I make you have these horrific images in your head."

Michael turned to her, his own tears stinging his eyes. "And you make me whole," he breathed.

"No, I don't," Sara murmured. She leaned forward on the couch, reaching on the floor for her purse. "I think I have to go."

"Have you ever heard of sleep communication, Sara?" Dr. Fry interrupted her exit. "It will help Michael and most likely, end his nightmare."

Sara paused, her hand on the door. "No. And I don't think it matters if it ends because it was still there in the first place."

"Sara, can we at least hear what Dr. Fry has to suggest? Please," Michael pleaded earnestly. "I'm begging you."

Dr. Fry continued without her answer. "We hypnotise Michael and we force him into his nightmare, at which point you talk to him and redirect his thought...rewrite his dream if you will."

Michael looked at him astounded. "That can work?" he asked, desperation lacing his voice.

"Of course. It's had tremendous success."


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Sara try out Dr. Fry's sleep communication technique during a therapy session.

Sara leaned against the door, her arms crossed. She was angry, she was exhausted, she was emotionally spent. "I think it sounds like bullshit."

"Sara, this could be the end of everything," Michael stumbled around the bed he was making while Sara watched him from the door frame. "I'm just saying, we should give it a try."

Sara sighed. “Can we just go to bed, Michael?”

Michael stopped and dropped the comforter. "Because you're tired, or because you don’t want to talk about this anymore?" He muttered darkly.

"Both?" Sara asked, moving further into the room. She opened the top dresser drawer, digging around for her green velour comfy outfit. "You could have tipped me off when I started ruining your life, Michael. Then it might not have gotten this bad."

"You think our marriage is bad?" Michael said hurt. He thumped the pillow a few times and then laid it back against the headboard. "You're not ruining my life either," he said firmly, throwing the corner of the blanket back and moving around the bed to plump the pillows on his side. "Maybe we shouldn't be trying for children," he said suddenly, his voice smooth but depressing.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," Sara muttered. She finally located her tracksuit, and went into the bathroom, shutting the door loudly behind her. She changed quickly, then moved back into the bedroom.

Michael was perched on the edge of the bed, rubbing his temples. He had changed into sweat pants and a light grey t-shirt that almost looked long sleeved with all of his tattoos. "Sometimes I think you don't want to fix our marriage," Michael told her. "Where is your enthusiasm? Your drive? What happened to ‘be the change...’?" He shook his head. "What's happened to you?" he asked softly.

"That Sara disappeared from Fox River along with you," Sara whispered. She placed her folded clothes on top of the dresser then moved to her side of the bed. "You don't think I want to fix our marriage, Michael? Do you know how bad it hurts to even think that our marriage needs fixing?"

"Our marriage needs fixing because of me, why don't you just say it?" Michael said, rearranging himself so that he was sitting with one of his legs under him. "Michael Scofield...neurotic, obsessive, fucker upper of marriages." Michael flattened his hands to his face and let out a breath against his palms. "You want anything from downstairs?" Michael tossed into the conversation slowly. "I'm going to watch TV."

Sara leaned against the headboard, drawing her knees up to her chest. She didn't know when it had gotten to be like this. Finally, the dam inside broke and she was crying. Pressing her palms firmly to her eyes, she whispered, "Don't go."

"I'm only going to the kitchen..." Michael soothed, his voice suddenly less irritated and nasty. "Why are you crying?" Michael asked lovingly, shuffling towards her on the bed and laying a hand to her knee.

"You didn't fuck up anything," Sara's voice came out a wail, her palms still pressed to her eyes. "God, you are neurotic. And you're obsessive. And you're a perfectionist to almost an insane degree. But I love all those things." She let out another sob. "And our marriage is not fucked up."

"Okay," Michael agreed with a gentle whisper. He smoothed his hands over her knee and let his hand slip to rub her thigh. "I only said that out of spite Sara. I didn't mean it. Our marriage is...rocky, not fucked up." He offered her a small smile and lowered his head to plant a kiss to her knee.

Sara finally dropped her hands, and blinked her watery eyes, sniffing. She opened her mouth to say something but was stopped when another sob escaped. She glanced down, "It's my fault I'm not getting pregnant."

"No, no," Michael shook his head slowly. "It's not your fault at all. We just need to keep trying," he nodded and moved again to sit cross-legged beside her. "It will happen one day."

"No, Michael," Sara shook her head, her voice more firm. "It's my fault. When I. . ." She paused and swallowed hard. "I was pregnant once, Michael." She glanced down again, not wanting to look at him. "I was stupid. I was stupid and high all the time and not careful, and I don't even know who the father was. I was so scared and I wasn't going to keep it. . ." She took another deep breath, knowing if she didn't finish now she never would. "But then I mixed some drugs, took something off the street that wasn't what I thought it was and I passed out. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. They had to perform a D&C and there was some. . . some scarring. And they said I might not ever be able to conceive again. It wasn't a big deal then. I wasn't even sure I wanted kids. But now. . . but now. . ." Her voice trailed off, and she broke into another sob.

Michael listened as she spoke and a tiny part of his heart broke away each time a sob racked her body. Michael reached out and cupped her face in his warm palm, brushing his thumb over her cheeks and wiping away her tears. "Sara, I don't blame you, and you shouldn't either," he said firmly, offering her a twitch of a smile. "So what if we never have kids," he shrugged. "We'll still have each other..." he smiled and pressed his lips to her forehead. "...and bigger bank balances," he chuckled softly.

"Stop acting like who I was and what I did was okay!" Sara shook her head, wiping hastily at the tears that wouldn't stop no matter how much she wanted them to. "You want a baby, Michael. I want a baby with you." She bit her bottom lip and laid her head on her knees. "I'm sorry."

Michael was taken back but her bitterness and nibbled his bottom lips nervously. He sat for a few minutes, just listening to her cry. He didn't know what to say to make Sara fell better and he doubted his ability to find the right words anyway. His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth and he looked at her shyly. "Dark chocolate and kirsch cherries," he said suddenly.

Sara lifted her head, his unexpected words shocking her out of her sobbing. She stared at him for a minute, and sniffled, trying to discern what he meant. Finally, she gave up. "What?"

"My fantasy," he told her. "If we are being honest with each other from now on, it's dark chocolate and kirsch cherries." He chuckled at his own words, muffling his laughter behind his palm before he composed himself with a cough. "You..." he pointed to her. "...licking rich, indulgent dark chocolate and the blackest kirsch cherries from..." he paused with a blush. "...me..." he pointed to himself. "I don't even know if you like dark chocolate or kirsch cherries," he laughed.

Sara watched him for a moment, and she figured he was trying to make her feel better. If she was being completely honest with herself, that fantasy wasn't half-bad. A million worse things had been swirling in her head. She leaned towards him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Brushing her fingers against his wrist, she whispered, "I like you."

"I know," Michael dismissed playfully. "But the dark chocolate and kirsch cherries...?" he grinned, his lips inches from hers.

"I like them too," Sara whispered, closing the gap and brushing her lips against his. She pulled away slightly and smiled. "Strawberries and whipped cream."

"You were embarrassed to say strawberries and whipped cream in front of Dr. Fry? After everything else?" Michael quirked an eyebrow at her and tucked her hair behind her ear.

Sara shrugged. "I don't know. It seems different. Like it's something that should just be between us."

Michael smiled at her sweetly before letting his eyes roam over her body. "You know..." he whispered playfully. "...I think we have some strawberries and whipped cream in the fridge," he lifted his eyes to hers and smirked wickedly.

Sara gave him a look, and leaned away, wiping at the traces of tears that still remained on her face. "Michael, I look like shit."

"But I bet you taste delicious," he growled letting his hand drift over her thigh and up under the edge of her top to skim over her skin. He withdrew his hand quickly and sighed dramatically. "But I guess if you're tired..." he resigned, pulling the comforter further up her body to hide it from his view.

Sara rolled her eyes and gave him another look, before quickly rolling over, pinning him down to the mattress. She smiled down at him, "Oh, Michael, I'm never too tired for you."

"I knew you couldn't stay mad at me," Michael grinned through a breath, letting his excitement out with an audible noise of pleasure. "But before we get all...sticky..." he said seriously. "...promise me next time we go to Dr. Fry, you'll try to the sleep communication thing. I want it to be over." Michael said, searching her face for her answer.

"Michael. . ." Sara trailed over and studied his expression. She pressed her forehead to his and nodded, "If you think it's really what you want, and that it will help then you know I'll do it for you."

"Promise me," Michael whispered against her face, his eyes closed and his voice raspy.

"I promise," Sara murmured, kissing his head softly. "Whatever you need, Michael. I promise."

Sara's declaration was enough for Michael and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. Their lips met with a burning passion and Michael kissed her slowly at first, testing her reaction before parting his lips and inviting her tongue inside. His hands glided down Sara's body, snaking their way into her pants and cupping her bare behind, grinding her against his involuntary arousal. Michael broke the kiss with ragged breath and stared at her with dark, seductive blue orbs. "Let's take this downstairs," he panted.

"Let's," Sara echoed. She kissed him once more, lingering on his bottom lip before sliding off him. She walked towards the door and turned around, glancing back at him. "Don't move so slow."

Michael all but bounced from the bed as he clambered after Sara, grabbing a blanket from the end of the bed and rushing after her. Their feet thudded down the stairs and echoed through the house but the sound was largely lost in their laughter. Michael yanked his shirt over his head as he moved through the hall, letting it fall to the floor silently as they rushed to the kitchen, stripping their clothes as they went. Michael flicked the blanket out across the tiled floor and took Sara by the hand and guided her onto it. He pressed his hand to the small of her back, his fingertips brushing the bare skin and he lowered her to the fabric lovingly. "Now," he said, sitting back on his heels and yanking the fridge open. "Ah ha! Strawberries," he groaned, retrieving the box from the middle shelf.

Sara moved behind him, wrapping her arms around his chest and pressing a kiss to the back of his shoulders. She pressed into him and whispered breathily against his neck, "And whipped cream. Don't forget."

Michael's eyes scanned the fridge hurriedly, finally resting upon the pressurized can in front of him. He grinned to himself and pulled it free, shaking it in the air and popping the cap. "So...in this fantasy..." he asked her as she laid back down naked in front of him. "...where does this go?" he hovered above her skin with the cream. "Does it go here?" he sprayed, letting the ice cold froth settle on her stomach before dipping his head and lapping it from her skin. "Or here?" he released another fine spurt to the sensitive skin under her breasts, licking and nuzzling the underside of it with a smile.

Sara let out a quiet moan and took the can from him. She gave him a wicked smirk and sprayed a bit on his stomach, licking it slowly off. "Actually. . ." She leaned back and dotted two creamy circles, one on each of her nipples. "Sometimes it goes right there."

Michael giggled, gently stroking her hair from her face as she licked the cream from his tattooed skin. When she sprayed it on her own skin once more, Michael lurched forward with a menacing growl and eagerly sucked at her hardened nipples. They were pleased to see him, stretching and tingling in his mouth while he gulped at the melting cream like a baby. "Where else?" he rasped with a passion laden voice.

Sara pushed Michael down on the blanket, getting on her knees next to him. She shook the can and smiled down at him. "How's here?" She pressed the nozzle, watching as the liquid misted over the hard length of his member. Settling herself between his legs, she licked it slowly off. "Mmm, baby."

Michael’s breath caught in his throat and he strained to lift his head from the floor to watch Sara tease his hardened manhood into submission. He gasped, the sensation of cold cream and the hotness of her mouth too much for him to control. "I thought..." he hissed, biting his jaw together. "I thought this was your fantasy," he smirked.

Sara squirted a trail up his chest, then followed it with her tongue. Smiling at him, she kissed him quickly on the mouth. "Oh, Michael. My fantasies are never just about me. They're about us."

"Well, now don't I feel selfish," he chuckled, flipping them over so he was hovering above her. He reached behind him and took a strawberry from the plastic packet, twirling it in his fingers as it dangled from its green, spider like stalk. "Where do these go?" he whispered, leaning over her and tracing the tip of the strawberry around Sara's mouth, along her jaw and down her chest.

"Actually, you're going to have to get creative with those. . ." Sara smirked, closing her eyes. "I was just really in the mood for strawberries."

"Oh really?" Michael arched an eyebrow, pulling the fruit back up her skin to her mouth. He teased her smile with it, pulling it away each time she tried to bite. Eventually, he broke and held it out for her. "Bite this for me," he told her firmly, a wicked grin still gracing his face.

Sara smiled at him and did as she was told, taking a bite of the sweet strawberry. She closed her eyes and sucked on it. "Mmm."

Michael took the ripe, red fruit and moved it to Sara's body where he dabbed at her skin with the sticky juices. He touched the strawberry to her neck, and then to her breasts that were still damp and sticky from the cream. Then he dabbed a line down her stomach, across her hip and finally, he stopped on the inside of her thigh. Sara's body had reacted to every touch; gradually becoming stiffer each time he neared her center. "You didn't think I’d stop there, did you?" Michael grinned devilishly as he proceeded to lick, suck and nip the strawberry flavouring from Sara's skin.

Michael plucked another strawberry from the box and let Sara take another bite of the cool fruit. He slithered back down her body, gently parting her legs with a firm hand to her inner thigh. Michael stroked up her slick entrance before tenderly pushing against her red hot clitoris with the colder strawberry.

"Oh. . . " Sara's breath hitched in her throat and she arched her back, fluttering her eyes closed. The cool sensation was driving her crazy. "Oh, Michael. . ."

Michael smiled to himself as she writhed in front of him. He pulled the stalk from the strawberry and popped the rest into his mouth, chewing on it hungrily and coating his mouth in its juices. He knelt down further, gripping at Sara's thighs with his blunt fingertips, and kissed her sensitive nub softly. His kissing turned into sucking and soon his tongue joined in the game, lapping at her sweet nectar and diving into her scorching core for more.

"Michael. . ." Sara lifted her head, wanting to watch him as he worked on her. "Michael. . . Michael. . ." She laid her head back down, moaning quietly. "I want to make love to you."

Michael stopped his assault and looked back up over her body to her heavy lidded stare. She was nearly there, he could feel the way her muscles had been gripping at his tongue. He sat back up, and took another strawberry from its box, pulling the stalk from it and flicking it across the kitchen floor. He bit into half of the strawberry loosely and crawled back over her body, positioning himself at her entrance. He waited until her eye fluttered open before pushing into her slowly and then pushing the strawberry into her mouth and biting his half off, he let the two pieces mingle in their mouths as the kissed.

Sara let out a moan against his mouth. Even after she had swallowed her half of the strawberry she could still taste it on his tongue, and she deepened the kiss. Leaning up a little, she wrapped one leg around his waist, tossing her head back. "This is . . . going to be over. . fast."

Michael's hand found her thigh and he held her leg to his while he drove into her slowly. It wasn't just slow, it was agonizing. With each thrust he could feel her insides clamp on his erection, pulling him deeper and deeper into her. "Come for me baby," Michael breathed, parting their lips but keeping his face pressed her hers.

Michael's words were enough to send Sara over the edge, and she succumbed to her orgasm, crying out his name as she tightened around him. She stilled beneath him, repeating his name over and over.

"Oh god..." Michael murmured as his own release took hold on his body. His name of Sara's lips was addictive and sent him flying into oblivion every time she uttered it when she came. His body spasmed and he thrust into her haphazardly, feeling the hot rush of his ejaculation spill into her throbbing nucleus. "Sara..." he breathed against her shoulder, collapsing against her body and resting his head beside hers.

Sara held his body to hers, pressing several kisses against his neck. "You realize. . . you realize how amazing you are, right, baby?"

Michael turned his head to hers and basked in her post-coital glow that radiated from her body, easily noticeable through the yellow glow of the refrigerator lighting that spilled onto their bodies. "Not as amazing as you," he complimented with a breathy sigh. "Wow..." he chuckled, nuzzling into her neck and kissing her jaw. "...that's some fantasy."

"We'll have to try out yours sometime soon," Sara murmured, kissing his neck. She shifted on the blanket, and propped herself up on her elbow, smirking at him. "And if you really want to, I guess we can play Inmate/Prison Doctor."

Michael bit his bottom lip and arched an eyebrow at her. "Will you wear the white coat with nothing underneath?" he teased with a grin.

Sara trailed her fingers down his chest and smiled at him, leaning in and brushing her lips across his. "Whatever makes you happy."

"You. You make me happy," he beamed and kissed her back eagerly, rolling onto his back and pulling her with him.

  
Sara sat still on the couch, her arms crossed. She had agreed to do this for Michael, but she wasn't looking forward to it. She doubted it was going to be pleasant. She fidgeted in her seat some more, then turned to look at Michael.

"I'll be fine," he told her with a smile. "You're here, right?" he said softly as Dr. Fry seated himself in front of Michael.

"Do you want to sit up, or lay down, Michael?" Dr. Fry asked him.

"Um...lay down I think," Michael told him and moved to stretch out on the couch. He rested his head on Sara's lap and looked up at her. "Stay there...please?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Sara whispered, leaning down and kissing Michael's forehead. "I'm right here." She turned to look at Dr. Fry. "How long will this take?"

Dr. Fry shrugged one shoulder. "It varies by patient and on how deep the repression is seated in the subconscious," he told her. He leant forward in his chair and took his glasses from his face in one swift action.

"Michael, I want you to close your eyes and imagine your body is getting heavy, can you do that?"

Michael took one last look at Sara but his eyes fluttered closed and he locked his fingers and rested his hands on his abdomen. He listened to the drone of Dr. Fry's voice as his limbs fell away from him and he felt almost invisible. His breathing became soft and shallow and he looked asleep.

"Okay Michael, when I count to three, you will see you and Sara in your bedroom," he said, the words making Michael's mind pick out the right image. “One…two…three.”

Sara watched Michael's face twitch slightly. She glanced from the doctor to her husband then back again. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to speak.

"Not yet," Dr. Fry whispered to her, holding out his hand to halt her words should they come.

Dr. Fry turned his attention from Sara back to Michael. "Michael, can you tell me what you see?"

A small mumble came from Michael's lips and his eyebrows twitched. "Me and Sara...in our bedroom," he muttered. "We are fighting."

Dr. Fry leaned closer. "Fighting about what?"

Michael moved his head a little, like he was straining to listen. "Sara says she wants to leave me," Michael swallowed.

Sara bit her lip, trying her best not to speak up. Dr. Fry continued on, "Why does she want to leave you? How does it make you feel?"

Michael panted a little. "She is saying she has met someone else...from her past," Michael breathed, the words hushed and sleepy. All of Michael's fears had leapt into his nightmare and his eyes flickered under their eyelids as he watched the scene. "I feel..." he swallowed again. "...angry."

Dr. Fry looked to Sara, who was visibly distraught, then continued on. "What do you want to do with that anger?"

"Sara, this won't be easy. I'm sorry," Dr. Fry added gently, whispering low so Michael ignored him.

"Sara ...don't leave me..." Michael mumbled.

"Michael," Dr. Fry repeated, this time louder. "What are you going to do with that anger?"

"I..." Michael stammered, his tone changing but remaining weak and sleepy. "...I want to make Sara sorry..."

"Now what's happening, Michael?" Dr. Fry encouraged lightly.

"Sara is hitting me across the face..." Michael's body flinched on the couch. "...across the chest..."

"And now?"

"I've grabbed her wrist...and I hear a snap..." Michael sounded distressed and his breathing grew deeper.

Sara bit the inside of her mouth, glancing away from him. Dr. Fry kept his gaze on Michael. "And how does that make you feel, Michael?"

Michael paused for a second, his face twitching. "Better," he growled.

Dr. Fry nodded. "And now what are you doing, Michael?"

Michael's breathing became more rapid and his fingers fell from each other and he clenched his fists. "Twisting..." Michael panting, biting his words through clenched teeth.

"What is Sara doing, Michael?"

"Crying. Begging me to stop...saying sorry," Michael said quietly. His voice was eerily calm.

"Does that make you feel powerful, Michael?" Dr. Fry added.

A smile flashed across Michael's face and he nodded slowly. "Yes."

Sara turned her pained gaze to the doctor. Michael was enjoying hurting her. Maybe it was nightmare Michael, but it was still him.

Dr. Fry spoke calmly. "And what else do you want to do to her, Michael?"

Michael fell silent for a second and then both Sara and Dr. Fry were startled. "You can't leave me, bitch!" Michael screamed and then he was silent again, just as quickly as it had come.

Dr. Fry turned to Sara quickly and gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "He is reliving his dream very vividly."

Sara opened her mouth, but no words came out. Dr. Fry focused his attention back on Michael. "What's Sara doing now, Michael?"

"Sara..." Michael said her name and it slithered from his lips. "...she is still going to leave me...for Josh," Michael bit the name out.

Dr. Fry looked up to Sara again. "Do you know a Josh? Either on your own or as a couple? Michael could be fabricating characters."

Sara was pretty sure once or twice she'd slept with a Josh, but Michael didn't know about that. She shook her head, not noticing when a single tear fell down her cheek. "No, I don't know who he's talking about."

"I..." Michael began in an almost inaudible whisper.

Dr. Fry leant closer. "Yes, Michael? What?"

"Josh was her boyfriend who liked rough sex..." he whimpered. "...I can be rough..." he growled.

Dr. Fry let out a small noise. "Does Sara like it when you’re rough?"

Michael chuckled evilly. "No."

"What's happening now, Michael?" Dr. Fry asked with a tilted expression.

"I am pushing Sara to the floor..." Michael said slowly. "...and I am pulling her pants off...Oh, Sara stop hitting me..." Michael morphed back into playing his role. "...you'll like it."

"Sara, I understand this is hard, but it would be very dangerous to stop. Do you understand?" Dr. Fry whispered.

Sara gave a single nod, and looked away, trying not to cry any harder.

Dr. Fry turned back to Michael. "Are you hurting Sara, Michael? Do you like it?"

Michael heaved a sigh and shifted uncomfortably on the leather couch. "I'm going to fuck her until she stays," Michael grunted, reaching for his fly.

"Michael, tell me what you are doing to Sara," Dr. Fry said, gently stopping Michael's hand and laying it back down beside his leg.

"I'm holding her down...her hands are above her head and pressed into the carpet," Michael panted. "I am freeing myself," Michael muttered with a dark voice. "Yeah...Yeah..." he began to grunt.

"Michael, are you raping Sara?" Dr. Fry asked bluntly.

"Yes," Michael hissed. Dr. Fry's head whipped up to Sara and he caught her attention.

"Okay Sara, now I want you to start talking to Michael. Turn this into making love. Make him believe he is making love to you. Overwrite his nightmare with a good memory." He told her urgently.

Sara took a deep breath and brought her hand up, gently brushing her fingers across Michael's forehead. "Michael? I love you. I would never, ever leave you. . ." She paused. "You're not hurting me, Michael. You're not raping me. You’re making love to me."

"Making love..." Michael murmured.

"That's good...he's responding..." Dr. Fry said excitedly. "...carry on," he urged Sara with an enthusiastic nod.

"Michael, I love you," Sara repeated. "And you love me. And you're not hurting me. We're making love. Say it, Michael."

"Making love..." Michael whispered again.

"Ask him what he sees, Sara," Dr. Fry said quietly.

Sara brushed her lips against his forehead. "What do you see, baby?"

Michael smiled and shifted again on the couch. "Our bed," he muttered. "We are in it...the covers at my waist and you under me...God, Sara..." Michael whimpered. “…it’s so slow and you feel so good.”

A smile spread over Dr. Fry's face and he leant towards Michael. "What are you doing, Michael?" he asked slowly.

"Making love to my wife," Michael said drowsily.

"And how did you get there?"

"We were fighting..." Michael said sadly, his lips curving downwards. Dr. Fry looked to Sara again.

"Give him a different background scenario," he said firmly. "If you still fight, the old scene could return."

"We were not fighting," Sara told him softly. She leaned down, brushing her lips over his forehead. "We just found out we're having a baby."

Michael whole body shook as he let out a gleeful laugh. A tear escaped his closed eyes and rolled down his face. "Oh Sara..." he began to pant as more tears escaped. "...we are having a baby."

Dr. Fry smiled happily. "How did you get in the bed, Michael?" he repeated.

"We are having a baby," Michael grinned boyishly. "Sara told me...we are celebrating..." he swallowed a lump of tears down his throat.

"That's right," Sara felt a sudden burst of pride, and she glanced back to Dr. Fry. "Is that it?"

Dr. Fry nodded slowly. "Michael, when you feel me touch your shoulder, you'll come back to us, okay?"

"Okay," Michael repeated slowly.

Dr. Fry reached out and laid his hand on Michael's shoulder and his eyes burst open suddenly. Michael sucked in a huge breath and looked shocked to see Sara upside down.

Sara brushed her fingers over his forehead again, fighting the urge to lean down and kiss him. "Hey there, baby." She couldn't hide the smile.

Michael smiled up at her and his heartbeat began to slow. "You're smiling," he noted happily. “Did it work?”

“I’m afraid we won’t know until you go to sleep and the image is relived,” Dr. Fry said. “But I think we’ve recreated your dream,” he added confidently.


	20. Chapter 20

"So, that's it? You're just going to leave me?" Michael's voice rose with each word, crashing into the walls of their bedroom and echoing through the furniture. A glass of water that stood on the dresser shook slightly, the water inside rippling with the vibrations.

"It doesn't have to be a big scene, Michael," Sara kept her voice even. She moved to the closet, opening it and taking some of her clothes out. "Just let me go."

Michael stormed over to where she was packing herself a small suitcase and laid a hand over hers as it pushed some clothes into the fabric confines. "Sara, please don't do this..." he begged gently.

"I have to," Sara shook her head, and glanced up and down Michael's body. "I just can't do this any more. I can't be in this marriage. It's not working."

Michael stood back and narrowed his eyes at her. "It was working last week when you was screaming out my name with pleasure," he snapped. "What's changed?"

"The sex is good, Michael. It always has been." Sara rolled her eyes and moved back to the closet. "But I just don't love you like that any more. I want to be with someone else."

Michael made a noise low in his throat. It sounded half like a sneeze and half like a cough and it was accompanied by a nervous grin. He shook his head disbelievingly and ran a hand over his mouth. "Someone else?" he repeated. He didn't believe her. "Who?" he enquired coolly, trying to catch her in a lie.

"It doesn't matter, Michael," Sara shook her head and zipped the suitcase. "All that matters is I'm leaving."

"You're not leaving me!" Michael chimed defiantly, chuckling more at his own words. This wasn't supposed to happen. Sara was supposed to be Mrs. Scofield forever. Michael turned from her, resting his forehead to his palm and beginning to pant when his mind finally processed her words as truth. "Who?" he barked darkly, not looking at her.

"Someone who isn't you," Sara responded, picking up the suitcase and heading towards the bedroom door. "His name's Josh. I knew him. . . before Fox River. Are you happy?"

"Before?" Michael darted in front of her and stopped her with an arm across the doorframe. "Like, he's a god damn junkie? You're leaving me for a fucking coke head!" Michael screamed at her, his breath damp and furious against her face.

"Michael, move." Sara kept her voice calm, but glanced down to the ground. "I need to go."

"You're not going anywhere," Michael sneered, wrenching the suitcase from her hand and tossing it back into the bedroom. It landed with a massive thud on the floor and skidded to a stop against the wall. "Is he good, Sara?" He spat, dipping his head to catch her gaze and back her back into the room forcefully. "Do you like it rough?"

Sara flinched and moved to the dresser, grabbing the glass of water that sat on it. She tossed it in his face, and pushed her hand behind her shoulder. "Stop being an asshole, and let me go."

Michael turned his face from the splash of water but quickly returned his gaze and swatted the tumbler from Sara's hand. Michael grunted gruffly, wiping the water from his eyes slowly. His breath began to heave from his chest and his blood began to boil. His jaw twitched a little and he stared at her coldly. "You whore," he spat harshly.

"I'm a whore?" Sara snapped, trying to move around him. "Always have been, Michael. Congratulations, your big brain finally caught on. Now let me go."

Michael sidestepped with her, not letting her around his massive frame. "How long has this been going on, huh? How long have you been fucking another man?" His words were loud and they echoed in the room. "I bet you're even using again aren't you? Plain old clean Michael just doesn't do it for you any more...you need some needle tracks in your life to feel whole!"

Sara brought her hand up and did something she had never even considering doing before. She smacked Michael. Biting back tears, she spat out, "Fuck you."

Michael’s face stung the minute Sara hit him. Her palm connected with his cheek and made a slapping noise that silenced the room. Sara lashed out again, striking Michael across the chest before his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist to stop her. The skin under his fingers turned pale and his fingers went white and shook with his grip. Michael's jaw was held together so tightly he thought it might fall off and his hand kept closing around Sara's thin wrist. As quickly as he had grabbed her, he heard the snapping of bone, likened to that of a twig and he felt a wash of relief surge through him. "Fuck you too, Sara." He spat, his mouth inches from her pained expression.

Sara let out a cry of pain, her breath catching in her throat. She didn't know what else to do, so choking on a sob, she mumbled. "I'm sorry." She was frozen, she couldn't even try to get away. "I'm sorry. Please let me go. Please let go. I'm sorry. Please."

Michael panted hard and his body rushed with adrenaline. He had never felt so revived after a bout of undeniable anger and he wanted more. Michael twisted his hand and felt the shuddered crunch of bone on bone under Sara's skin. He felt Almighty and he had want he wanted; Sara would pay for even considering leaving his side. "You can't leave me, bitch!" he bellowed as she crumbled under his power.

"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" Sara's voice was coming out a near shriek. "Let go of me. Please let go. I'll do whatever you want, Michael. Just let go."

Michael released Sara hand and she clutched it her chest with a shaky and tender grip. The joint began to swell and Michael could see it hurt, but he didn't care. Surely she wouldn't leave him now she saw what he capable of.

"God, Michael. . ." Sara bit back a sob, and moved back farther into the room. She looked up at him, blinking back more tears. Her voice rose to a near-panicked level. "What the fuck is your problem? Get the fuck out of my way!" She moved for the phone, ready to call Lincoln.

"Who the fuck are you calling?" Michael stormed over and tried to snatch the phone. "It's Josh, isn't it? It's fucking Josh!"

Sara moved across the bed, holding the phone in one hand and cradling her hurt wrist across his chest. "I'm calling Lincoln!" Seeing that Michael was chasing after her, she quickly scrambled towards the now open bedroom door.

"Oh my god..." Michael sighed with revelation. He knew who Josh was. Michael dived across the bed after her and bounced off the edge, grabbing her shoulders and spinning her to face him. "Josh...Josh is that boyfriend you told me about who was...rough..." he growled. He snatched the phone from her hand and smashed it against the doorframe. The white plastic crumbled from his grip and he shook her again. "He is isn’t he? Tell me!" he barked.

"Michael! You're scaring me!" Sara let out another sob. "I need you to stop. Please just stop."

"No..." he said hurriedly kicking Sara's legs out from under her and watching her tumble to the floor with a bump. He dropped to his knees and held her ankles to stop her from crawling away. "...if you want it rough..." he said huskily, his voice laced with hate. He moved his hands to her pants and ripped them open. His fingernails scratched at her skin as he tore them down her legs and off her bare feet.

"Michael! Stop it!" Sara was done crying, she was panicked. She kicked him, she pounded on his chest, anything to get him to stop. It wasn't working. "Stop it! Stop it. Stop it!"

Michael grinned down at her and pinned her arms against the floor to stop her hitting him. "Oh Sara, stop hitting me..." he laughed wickedly. "...you'll like it..." he growled with sudden arousal in his voice.

"No, I won't like it. I don't like it!" Sara raised her voice. She let out a cry of pain as he put pressure on her hurt wrist. "You're hurting me, Michael. You are hurting me."

Sara squirmed weakly under him and Michael almost came when she unwillingly rubbing his straining erection. His eyes fluttered closed and he leant down to whisper in her ear, his words reeking of filth and decay. "I'm gonna fuck you until you stay..."

Sara turned her head to the side, trying to twist away from him. "Please don't, please don't. I'll do whatever you want. Please, please just don't touch me."

Michael laughed again and shook his head slowly. "Fool me once, Sara, shame on you..." he reached down and pushed her panties askew before freeing his scorching erection with the same hand. He pushed his tip into her core which was tight as she resisted, making his advances agony for her but euphoric for him. "...fool me twice..." he added gruffly, thrusting into her fully and making her scream with pain. His words trailed off as he withdrew and repeated his angry charging. "Yeah...Yeah..." he chanted, his voice dark and sadistic.

Sara sat up in bed, letting out a strangled cry. She glanced around the darkened room, taking in her surroundings. She was sweating. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. Still breathing rapidly, she threw off the covers.

"Sara?" Michael stirred and called her name groggily. He could just make out her shadow sitting frozen on the bed next to him. "Are you okay?"

"I need --" Sara's voice caught in her throat, and she stood up. "I need a shower." She walked into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

  
Michael rolled over in bed and squinted at their alarm clock. "At four AM?" he said to himself with confusion in his voice. If therapy had taught him anything, it was that things like this were not normal and often signified a greater importance. Michael threw back the covers and sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before padding to the bathroom door. He tapped on the door a few times and gently called her name. "Sara?"

"I need some clothes," Sara called through the door. "Can you bring me some clothes?" She turned the water on, and quickly stepped into the shower.

"Uh...sure," Michael whispered against the door. "Clothes..." he repeated to himself as he fetched a new set of pyjamas from Sara's drawers. Walking to the door he tapped again lightly. "Sara, do you want me to bring them in?" he called softly.

"Yeah," Sara leaned against the wall of the shower and closed her eyes as the water beat down on her. She covered her eyes with her hands. "Yeah. You can bring them in."

Michael pushed the door open and it silently swung into the room. He shuffled across the tiled linoleum flooring and placed the bundle of clean bedclothes and underwear on the closed toilet seat. Michael perched on the edge of the bath and folded his arms over across his chest, crossing his legs at his ankles. He sighed and listened to the water pound against the door of the shower cubicle. "Do you want to talk about it?" Michael offered slowly, focusing on his void of toes as he spoke.

Sara didn't respond for a few minutes. She finished her shower, then slid the door open, reaching for her towel. She towelled off her legs, then wrapped the towel around her body, finally looking to Michael. "I had your nightmare."

Michael looked up at her with a frown. "My nightmare?"

Sara moved over to the sink. She wiped her hand through the condensation on the mirror, and stared at herself for a second, running her fingers through her wet hair. "The nightmare about me trying to leave."

Michael moved to stand behind her and he smoothed his hands down her damp shoulders. "I'd never hurt you, Sara," he whispered and dropped a kiss to her skin. "You know that, you said it yourself." He lifted his head and looked into the mirror, catching her gaze. "Never. Ever." he said firmly. "Especially like...that," he trailed off quietly, half ashamed of even having thought of the scenario in the first place.

"I know you wouldn't, Michael," Sara murmured. She wasn't sure if she felt like being touched by him or not. Finally, she turned and pressed her forehead to his chest. "It felt so real."

"Oh, baby," Michael murmured against her hair, pulling her body tight against him and running his hands over her back. "It wasn't real," he assured her, inhaling her fresh scent and feeling her warmth through his shirt.

"I know it wasn't real," Sara murmured into his neck. "I know." She was suddenly cold and she pulled away, moving to retrieve the pyjamas he had brought into the bathroom. She dropped her towel and turned back to him. "You can go back to bed if you're tired, baby."

Michael watched the towel slide from her body and hit the floor with a dull smack. When she had pulled her top over her head, he took her by the waist and pressed himself into her back again. "I'm not going without you," he whispered, kissing the side of her temple softly.

"I'm not really tired," Sara murmured, shaking her head. "I might go watch some TV or something." She turned to face him, "Really, Michael. Go to bed, I don't want to keep you up. I just. . . I can't sleep right now."

"I'll come and sit with you on the couch...how's that?" he asked her, his voice still sleepy and his body aching with exhaustion. "I've been there, Sara. Alone is not the place to be right now."

"I can sit in the bed if you want to sleep," Sara knew how tired he was. She wasn't being fair. "I can sit in bed with you."

Michael shook his head slowly and then let his hand fall from hers. "Sara, are you afraid to sleep in the same bed as me?" he asked nervously.

"No," Sara reached for Michael's hand again and squeezed it. She brought her other hand up, stroking his cheek. "No. But I'm kind of afraid of falling back asleep."

Michael pulled her into another hug and sighed again; relieved she wasn't scared of him. "I'll be right next to you," he promised faithfully. "And you'll be safe in my arms."

Sara wrapped her arms around his stomach, pressing her face into his shoulder. She allowed herself to cry for a minute before finally whispering, "Alright. Let's go to bed."

Michael cradled the back of her head, letting his hand slip slightly to stroke at her nape before pulling back and kissing her forehead tenderly. He gave her a small smile and locked his fingers with hers and led her from the bathroom silently. He let her slide into his side of the bed and he scooted in behind her, pressing himself against her back and draping his arm around her waist. His hand splayed out over her stomach, snaking under her top, yearning for the skin-to-skin contact that so often chased away his demons. Michael tucked his chin into the crook of her neck and let out a soft moan. "I'm right here. I won't let anything happen to you," he breathed against her skin.

"I know, Michael," Sara whispered, covering his hand with her own. She snuggled further back into him, closing her eyes. She was quiet for several seconds and then whispered, "I'm sorry. If I wasn't understanding enough about how awful it was for you to dream that."

Michael pulled her to him a little harder and smiled against her skin when he pressed another kiss to her shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to relive it. I really am. I was hypnotised so I can only imagine how horrific it was for you to see me like that."

"I still think we need to go on vacation," Sara murmured, stroking her fingers slowly over his. "Just get away from all this."

Michael smirked, his eyes closed and his body warming Sara's. "Yes, we do. You never did tell me where you had in mind," he said quietly, his voice invaded by the prospect of sleep once more.

Sara smiled at the sound of his sleepy voice. She closed her eyes and whispered, "We'll talk about it tomorrow." She waited for the sound of his steady breathing.

  
Sara moved around in the kitchen, cleaning up the remains of the dinner the previous night. They didn't usually leave messes overnight, but they'd both been exhausted. She heard Michael moving around in the living room, speaking softly on the phone, and she knew he was awake. She hadn't fallen back asleep after her shower. Walking into the living room, she leaned against the wall, listening to him.

"Yeah...for two....oh you don't? Well how about that little one in the corner...by the fountain...fantastic....yeah for eight," Michael's one sided conversation with himself as he tidied the lounge was hushed, his words barely audible to his own ears as he said them with a smile. "Yeah, it's Scofield," he said into the phone, holding it to his ear with his shoulder while he rearranged some magazines on their coffee table. "Great thanks." Michael flipped his cell phone closed and tuned to head towards the kitchen but was shocked to see Sara watching him. He blushed and jumped out of his skin. "Sara..."

Sara crossed her arms and gave him a smirk, moving from her leaning position. "Hmm. . . reservations?" She moved towards him. "Taking your other woman out to dinner?"

Michael slipped his cell phone into his back pocket and smiled coyly. "No, my wife actually. We have couple's therapy again today and she deserves a treat afterwards," he smiled. "Must remind her to wear something sexy..." he muttered sexily.

Sara rolled her eyes and took another step closer to him. "Are you sure she's going to be in a romantic mood after couple's therapy? I hear she hates it."

Michael reached out and laid his hand to her hip, gently guiding her into his standing space. With their bodies barely touching, Michael licked his lips slowly. "I think I can persuade her," he beamed. His hand danced under the hem of her shirt and tickled lightly at the skin of her belly, tracing it's way around to her back. "I'll just tell her I was planning on wearing my crimson silk shirt...she likes that."

"She does like that," Sara whispered, pressing her body further into his. "And maybe, just maybe she won't wear anything under her little black dress?"

A sound escaped Michael's throat and it was guttural and riddled with lust. "Now I’d like that," he growled, tucking his finger into the waistband of her pants and sliding it along her hip playfully.

Sara slid her arms around his neck, placing a soft kiss to his lips. "Mmm, baby?" She moved her lips to his neck. "Can we skip therapy?"

Michael's voice became airy and weak with her kissing game. "You don't want to talk about the dream, do you?" he asked, swallowing hard.

"Nope." Sara tugged his shirt down, granting herself access to his collarbone. "It's not a big deal. I just think hearing you talk about it triggered it."

"So..." he swallowed again, her lips burning holes in his skin. "...let's get it over with now." His hand came up to caress her shoulders, trailing over the lightly covered flesh teasingly. "You had a nightmare. How does that...how do you...feel?" Michael whimpered, his tone low and droning as he pretended to be Dr. Fry. His question led to more seductive answers and he most definitely didn't want to go to therapy anymore.

"I feel. . ." Sara's voice trailed off and her hands trailed underneath his shirt, connecting with his warm skin. "I feel. . ." She brushed her lips up his neck to his ear. "Horny."

Michael all but giggled as he gripped at Sara's behind and lifted her into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he began a quick, stumbling path to their bedroom. He kicked the door open and Sara chuckled as he dropped them both to the bed and crawled up over her menacingly. "Therapy over," was all he rasped before capturing her lips for a long, hard kiss that left their lips plump and pleasantly bruised from want.

  
Sara smiled at the waitress as she took away their dinner plates and leaned further back in her plush chair, smiling at Michael over the table. "So, are you ordering dessert, or do we wait until home for that?"

"It's up to you," Michael said, ever the perfect gentlemen. "But we don't have any dark chocolate, or kirsch cherries indoors," he winked and lifted his sparkling champagne to his lips and sipped through his smile. The meal had been delicious. Tenderised steak, medium rare for his carnivorous appetite, served and eaten faster then his thoughts could process the idea of dessert straight from Sara's body.

Sara smiled at him and kicked her shoes off, putting her feet on the chair between his legs. She pressed her toes into his thigh, sighing. "We're going to be in big trouble at therapy, you know."

Michael all but spat his bubbles back into the flute glass and his knees bumped the underside of the table. He shot a glance around them and no one was looking. "Sara..." he warned as her toes curled against his pants.

Sara moved her toes father up and arched her eyebrow. "What?" She gave him her best attempt at an innocent smile. "So, how about this vacation? If we're going to keep trying for a baby, we might want to get some alone time before it happens."

Michael sucked in a breath and gave her a soft smirk. "Well," he began, shifting further down his seat so that her sole bumped into his crotch. "Where in the world is good for alone time?" he whispered on a husky vice. He sat forward, crossing his arms on the edge of the table and grinning at her boyishly.

"Wherever you want to go, baby," Sara shrugged, putting a little more pressure into his groin. "Where is it you like? Baja? Thailand?"

Michael lowered his head as he laughed, clamping his legs closed together and holding her ankle still. "Ahh, where the beers are fifty cents and twenty five at happy hour."

"Too bad I don't drink," Sara quipped. She shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know, baby. We can go anywhere. Somewhere romantic. Are you even going to want to leave the hotel room?" She attempted to wiggle her toes. "Are you sure you can get time off work."

Michael grinned at her wickedly and tucked his hand under the table to stroke her foot. "Are you sure you can?" he arched an eyebrow before sitting back and resting both his hands back on the table. His legs relaxed and he released her foot slowly. "And...hotel room? I was thinking more...privately rented beach side villa."

"Isn't that expensive?" Sara murmured. Her foot began to massage the inside of his thigh again. "Don't do something we can't afford, Michael."

Michael smiled at her again, his eyes sparkling with a drunken likeness, even though he had only had half a glass of his champagne already. He leant back in his chair and fished through his jacket, seizing an envelope from his inside pocket and resting it on the table in front of her. The name of the Italian airline decorated the top corner and he sighed with a pretend disappointment. "I guess I should return these then," he feigned sadness and shrugged.

"Michael!" Sara hissed, sitting up straight and pulling her feet back under the table. She snatched the tickets from the table, her mouth falling open slightly. "Italy? Italy." She looked up at him, a quiet giggle escaping. "How? When? Michael."

Michael tucked his legs under his chair and leaned off the edge of his seat over the middle of the table excitedly. "Yes, Italy...more specifically Sardinia," he said, producing a leaflet from his pocket and reading the villas description seductively. "In a stunning, privately romantic sea front villa set just off the lapping waves of the Mediterranean Sea, hiding away from tourism and interruptions, with it's own private, sandy white beach cove..." he trailed off, looking up at her over the leaflet and smiling.

"Michael. . ." Sara was touched by all he had done for her. She reached across the table, taking his hand in hers. "When did you do all of this?"

Michael took her hand in his, letting her warmth wash over his palms, filling every line of his skin. His other reached up to brush a strand or two of her shimmering auburn tassels from her face and tucked them behind her ear. "Right after I awoke from the most fantastic sex dream I had after my sleep communication session," he smiled, his lips twisting and peaking up at the corners. "They internet really is a wonderful invention," he breathed.

Sara brought Michael's hand up to her lips, giving it a soft kiss. "And you're sure we can afford this?"

"I can," he said simply with another broad smile.

"Michael. . ." Sara gave him a look and then broke into a smile. "We need to go home right now."

  
They had barely made it into their apartment before Sara had Michael pressed against the wall behind their front door. A hearty laugh rumbled deep in Michael's chest when she pressed her lips to his neck and he let his hand trail lightly over her bare shoulder. She was thanking him, he knew that, and he would let her. Obviously, with all the baby making try outs they had been having, it was essential they finished this dance connected, spent and that much closer to their goal. Michael was glad, because with Sara's haste to undress him, he didn't think he could even find the time to remember where he had hidden his condoms.

"You taste good," Sara murmured against Michael's neck. She fumbled for his belt buckle, tripping out of her high heels. "This might not make it to the bedroom."

"I'm not complaining," Michael panted as his heart rate accelerated in his chest when Sara grabbed his shirt roughly and moved to push him down onto the couch. The tension in his groin tightened with the mere though of Sara, naked and nestled between his thighs, devouring him for dessert.

Sara slowed her kisses, unbuttoning his shirt and placing a warm, wet kiss to his chest with each button. "I love you." She pushed his shirt over his shoulders and to the floor. His pants soon followed. "You are an amazing man."

"I love you more," Michael teased playfully, the familiar banter filling the room. "I really couldn't have asked for a better wife," he sighed when her hands flattened over his skin and it prickled to life. He let a low laugh escape his throat. "The last one tried to kill me," he joked dryly as Sara knelt between his parted thighs.

Sara paused, leaning her arms on Michael's knees. "Really. You wanna talk about your ex-wife right now?"

"No, no..." Michael said, panicked at her sudden reluctance to finish her dessert. "...God, no..." he breathed, his painful erection straining against the taught skin of his abdomen and begging for her attention. "What ex-wife?" he smirked.

"That's better," Sara murmured, settling herself back between his thighs. She ran her tongue over his length, letting out a low moan. "Mmmm."

Michael body tensed and then relaxed when she moaned against his scorching flesh. His abdomen heaved in and out as he struggled for air, his entire body excited and racked with anticipation. "Sara..." he hissed through clenched teeth, never taking his eyes off of her as she nibbled at his member playfully.

Sara took him all the way into her mouth, letting out another moan. She loved the way he writhed under her, the noises he made. It was the best kind of foreplay.

"Ahh..." Michael panted heavily, the sound fading into the room and dissolving in its own passion. Michael watched himself disappear into Sara's hot, wet maw over and over, slowly and deliberately tasting him at her own leisure. Michael picked up one of her hands and flattened it to his chest where her fingers instantly began their chase, leaping and dancing over his indigo lines.

Sara continued thrusting with her mouth, moaning as his cries of pleasure filled the room. She took him in her hand, pressing her mouth to his stomach. "Oh, Michael."

Michael's hips jerked upwards into Sara's hand. The sensation was different; it was harder, with more friction and rigour and Michael thought he might spill his seed right then. "Sara..." he moaned again, throwing his head back onto the couch cushions and gripping the edge of the couch with one shaky hand. The other had found Sara's head and was busy tangling itself in the long, ruby red tendrils that tickled at his painted skin. "...oh yeah..." he groaned slowly. "...I need...I need to be inside of you..." he rasped on ragged breath with a smile playing across his lips. "...before I impregnate the couch."

A breathy laugh escaped Sara's lips as she moved over him, hiking her dress up and positioning herself over him. She sank down, just so his tip was in her. "We've been giving this couch lots of attention lately."

"It's okay...I don't think furniture gets jealous..." Michael panted on a whisper. Reaching behind her he unzipped her dress and pulled it over her head where her breasts spilled into view. His eyes lit up hungrily and he licked his lips. "...No underwear is my new favourite thing about taking you to dinner."

Sara giggled and tossed her head back. "Well, don't get used to it. I was just feeling a little brazen tonight."

Michael pouted and gripped her hips, pulling her down onto him and impaling her quickly. "We'll see," he grinned.

Sara moaned as he moved into her. She let out a gasp and gripped his shoulders. "Do you want. . . a boy or girl?"

Michael considered the question as he tried to shut out Sara's airy voice in his ears. "I read...if I do this..." Michael thrust into her slowly, almost leaving her body completely before re-entering her with a shuddering groan. "...we get a girl...or if I do this..." he grunted, changing his pace to furiously pound into her harder. "...we get a boy...so the question is...do you want a boy..." he gritted his teeth as he buried himself within her and Sara let out a squeak. "...or a girl, Sara?" Michael slowed his pace again, teasing the ribbed flesh of her g-spot.

"Oh, God, Michael," Sara tossed her head back, barely moving her hips as he kept changing positions on her. She totally forgot he was asking her a question, and let out a low puff of air. "What are you trying to do to me?"

Michael sat up a little bit, closing the space between their bodies and making Sara freeze with pending pleasure when her clitoris was pinched between their bodies. "Boy...or girl...?" he whispered against her lips, nibbling at the swollen flesh and teasing her with the prospect of a kiss as hot as their love making.

"Boy or girl," Sara repeated, her voice barely coming out a whisper. "It doesn't matter. As long as it's a baby with you."

Michael thrust his hips again in his current position, bumping his pubic bone hard against Sara's sensitive nub. She squeaked again but Michael devoured her moans with his lips, kissing her feverishly. He didn't know what he wanted. Either would be good, as long as they had a baby to call their own he would be happy. Although, as it turned out, if the magazine had been correct about how he made love to her, they would end up with a boy.

Sara sucked on Michael's bottom lip, panting heavily against his mouth. "Michael, you're. . ." She paused, pressing his forehead into his neck. "I'm going to come"

At her declaration Michael thrust harder, furiously intent on making her do exactly that. His own release built up behind its defences and his stomach burned from it clawing its way through his reproductive system. "Come for me baby," Michael said shakily, barely able to form the words against her mouth before his vision blurred and he began to weep inside of her core. "I'm gonna..." he panted, but it was futile. Words couldn't stop his desire riddled tidal wave from washing over his body.

Sara let out a squeak into Michael's mouth as she came, clutching onto his shoulders. She wound her arms around his neck, panting his name against his neck. "Oh yeah, oh yeah, baby. . ."

Michael held her to him and his hips jerked forward a few times before he was emptied and comfortably numb inside of her. Michael's panted hard, trying to regain his composure. His mouth was dry where he had been gasping for breath so desperately and all of his limbs felt weak and heavy. A fine coating of dewy sweat drizzled their bodies and Michael's hands slid to draw delicate circles over her hips. "Cheque please," he mused, nuzzling her neck with a grin.

"You know," Sara murmured, her arms still wrapped around him. "Maybe we shouldn't have a baby. Because I really, really, really like this whole walking in the door and ripping each other's clothes off thing."

Michael quirked an eyebrow at her. "You ripped my clothes off woman!" he smiled breathlessly. "Not that I minded."

"Good," Sara murmured, meeting his lips in another kiss. "I can't wait for Italy."


	21. Chapter 21

"Tell me, why did you miss our session yesterday, Sara?" Dr. Fry looked over to her puzzled, his pen twiddling between his fingers and his glasses resting on the end of his nose.

"I umm. . . " Sara's voice trailed off and she glanced towards Michael. "I wasn't feeling well?"

Dr. Fry looked to Michael. "Sara wasn't feeling well?"

Michael nodded his head in agreement. "We went out for dinner and Sara ate something that made her break out in a hot, sweaty flush," Michael smirked at her and then forced his smile from his face. "It was very nasty," he told Dr. Fry seriously.

Sara coughed and didn't look at Dr. Fry, who was glancing between the both of them.

"Have you had any more nightmares, Michael?"

Michael frowned and tried to recall the past week, omitting all the sex and flirting from his mind. "You know, I really haven't," Michael said, slightly shocked. It wasn't something he had considered.

"Have you had any other reoccurring dreams?" Dr. Fry prodded and Michael blushed.

"Just one..." he turned to Sara again and traced his thumb over her palm. "...a good one."

Sara brought Michael's hand to her mouth and kissed it as Dr. Fry asked, "And what happened in this good dream?"

"We make love," Michael breathed, not taking his eyes from Sara and he brushed his own lips over the softness of her hand.

"That's fantastic," Dr. Fry said, scribbling notes in a slightly larger journal. "I hope you don't mind Michael, but I am writing an article on the success of your case for a medical journal," he added, still making notes about Michael's progress. "Of course, " he paused to look up at them. "I will change your names."

Michael smiled and shrugged, a little honoured. "We are going on vacation," Michael announced.

"Oh, where too?" Dr. Fry enquired, looking to Sara with a warm smile.

"To Italy," Sara beamed, squeezing onto Michael's hand. She glanced lovingly in his direction. "Michael planned the whole thing. I've been saying I want to go on vacation for awhile, and he surprised me at dinner last night."

Dr. Fry arched an eyebrow and looked up at her slowly. "You're illness cleared up quickly," he smiled, rolling his eyes back to his notes.

"I'm not sure it's cleared up," Sara murmured, squeezing Michael's knee. "I think Michael is just learning that he needs to control himself."

"Control himself, how?" Dr. Fry muttered.

"I think he still feels episodes coming on," Sara nodded. "But I think he stops them. I think he sees the anger coming and pushes it away now."

"Yeah, I do," Michael added happily. "I haven't felt a violent outburst for over a week," he smiled. "Thank you, Doc."

Dr. Fry looked towards Michael. "And are you still trying for a baby?"

Michael's heart swelled and skipped a beat in his chest. "Yes," he beamed at Sara, shuffling to close the gap between them on the couch. The brown leather creaked under his weight and he rested their entwined hands to his lap. "We are actually going to do another test later today."

Dr. Fry nodded slowly. "What makes you feel as though you're ready for a baby, Michael?"

Michael let a puff of air leave his lips as he contemplated the question. "I feel...that if I can control my LLI, and learn to manage it better, then a baby is the next logical step for our marriage."

Dr. Fry rested one wrist over the other and tilted his head confused. "A few weeks ago you were scared of having a child around you. You said..." he flipped through some crumpled pages. "...you'd remove yourself from the situation."

"I know," Michael said firmly. "But I really believe I am a changed man."

"Is he, Sara?"

"I think he is," Sara said earnestly, looking at Dr. Fry. "He seems a lot more content now, he gets angry less. Things are great with the nightmare gone." She paused and smiled. "It almost seems like he wants a baby more than me now."

Michael grinned at her again and leant sideways to whisper in her ear. "I enjoy trying."

Sara laughed softly as the doctor asked, "Are you ready to be a mom, Sara?"

"I think so," Sara nodded. "I feel like I am. I want a baby, I know I'd love it more than anything. I feel as though I'm at a place in my life where I can be a good mother."

"Can I ask why you are so hesitant to commit to a yes or no answer like Michael?" Dr. Fry urged her deeper feelings to surface.

"I'm a nervous person," Sara shrugged. "I will probably always doubt my ability to be a mother just because. . . just because my mother messed up. A lot."

Dr. Fry made a sound low in his throat. "Do you miss your mother, Sara?" He asked her with another stern glare over the rim of his glasses.

"I miss both my parents," Sara answered honestly. "I feel like I missed a lot not having a mother at important times. As happy as my wedding day was, I didn't have a parent there."

Michael gripped her hand, squeezing it lightly. There were a lot of things he had caused that he wished he hadn't. The death of Sara's father, despite what she always told him, was his biggest regretful consequence.

"What about your parents, Michael?"

Michael's head whipped up to the doctor and he sighed. "Both of my parents are dead too."

Sara let out a quiet scoff, looking down at her lap and trying not to cry. "We have a lot in common."

"Quite often, that builds a stronger bond," Dr. Fry told her, scribbled more notes.

"I think it makes me realize what good parents I want to be," Sara said softly, keeping her gaze down. "I know how my father was, and I look at Michael and I know that he. . . he's not going to make those mistakes."

"I won't make the mistakes my father did," Michael corrected her firmly.

Dr. Fry turned the page and poised his pen. "What mistakes, Michael?"

Michael shifted in his seat, resting his ankle on his knee and laying his hand on it gently. "My father wasn't there for me, or my mother, or my brother...he was just...gone." Michael looked to his hand, idling on his knee by its own accord. "He said he had more important things...that he was protecting us..." he bit back some rising anger in his tone. "I just don't understand how anyone can neglect their family so much, regardless of the situation. You'd find a way."

Dr. Fry nodded. "And what about Sara's dad. What mistakes did he make?"

Michael hesitated, unsure if what he thought about Sara's father would have an impact on her, and if it did, how severely. "I think..." Michael began, turning to face her with honest, ocean blue eyes. "...I think Sara's father put his career before his family, but it worked because when he stopped doing that, he ended up dead."

Sara twiddled her thumbs in her lap and cleared her throat. Finally, she looked up, at Dr. Fry. "It's my fault they killed him. I shouldn't have asked him to look into the case, I shouldn't have involved him."

"No, it's my fault," Michael piped in. "If I hadn't of provoked interest in Lincoln's case you would have never asked your father to look into it."

"Interesting..." Dr. Fry caught their attentions. "You both feel guilt for the same incident, neither of you had the power to stop." He wrote some more slow notes and look back up to Sara.

"When Michael was on the run, what was your relationship like with your father?"

"He didn't visit me when I was in the hospital, but. . ." Sara laughed sadly, quietly. "He bailed me out of jail, and I told him I left the door unlocked. He wasn't too happy, he ah-- he made it clear he didn't want to be near me. But then, the next time I saw him. . ." Sara's voice trailed off. "He was different. It was different. We were going to fix things. He let me know he loved me and. . ." Sara's stopped speaking and looked back down, trying as hard as she could not to cry.

"And?" Dr. Fry prodded gently.

"And it is my fault. It's not Michael's fault," Sara shook her head, her voice firm. "It was my fault. I should have got their sooner. I should have known what they would do to him."

"What was your relationship with Michael like after you found out your father had died?"

Sara looked back up. "At first, I was angry. But then it eventually made me realize that I wanted to be with Michael. That I needed to be with him. Life is. . . life is short." She shrugged. "So, in my own way, I let Michael know I loved him. And. . ."

Michael smiled. "Filet mignon," he said simply.

Sara laughed quietly, leaned to Michael, pressing her face into his shoulder. He knew exactly what she needed to lift the grief on the situation.

Michael let out a small laugh that only Sara understood and pressed his lips to the softness of her hair. His words had hidden meanings and also consequences only they knew. The two French coupled syllables had led to their first date, and to the first time, they had made love. It was the time Michael knew, that from then on, there would be no one else but Sara.

Dr. Fry looked to Sara and arched an eyebrow. "Would your father have approved of your relationship with Michael?"

Sara considered the question, then shrugged. "Michael is the kind of man my father always wanted me to date, but I never did. I'm not sure the whole. . . ex-con thing would have gone over well though."

“You say date...would your father of approved of your marriage?"

"I'd like to think that my father would just want me to be happy," Sara nodded, glancing to Michael. "And I am."

Dr. Fry turned to Michael. "Do you think this vacation you're going on is an escape?"

Michael pondered the question, leaning his elbow on the arm of the couch and resting his knuckles on the side of his head. "Not from each other, but yeah. I want to get away from everything and come home with a new outlook on my marriage." Michael turned to Sara with a mischievous grin. "Like a second honeymoon."

Dr. Fry turned the page in his notebook. "How do you feel about your marriage now, Michael, and what aspects are you still looking to change?"

Michael sighed and touched his fingertips to his lips. “I can’t think of anything I’d want to change now we have the nightmare sorted,” he chimed. “Unless…” Michael trailed off.

“Unless what, Michael?” Dr. Fry asked inquisitively.

“I…I sometimes wish that Sara wouldn’t seek so much solace in my brother every time we fall out. It’s kinda…well, it makes a paranoid mind come alive…”

Sara glanced over to Michael, arching an eyebrow. She then looked to Dr. Fry, "Lincoln's my best friend. Nothing more."

Dr. Fry looked at Michael. "And you feel as though there might be something else there?"

"I'm supposed to be your best friend," Michael told her sadly with a pang in his heart. He looked from her and let his hand slip from hers gently. "Lincoln is my brother. I'm not saying he would try anything with Sara but I know him. He wouldn't not...if the offer presented itself.”

"My best friend other than you," Sara rolled her eyes. When Michael let go of her hand, she crossed her arms. "I can't believe you'd say that about Lincoln. He would not sleep with me."

Michael scoffed and bit his tongue. "With all due respect Sara, you don't know Lincoln that well..."

Sara pursed her lips and looked from Michael to the doctor, then back again. Finally, she turned to Dr. Fry, not wanting to address Michael personally. "When Michael had to go back to jail, we took some time apart. Actually, he said he didn't want to see me." She drummed her fingers on the arm of the couch. "I was pretty upset, I drank a lot, and one night I came knocking on Lincoln's door. He refused me. Offered me a place to stay." She nodded slowly. "I lived with him for about two months. So yeah, I think I do know Lincoln that well."

"You lived with Lincoln?" Michael snapped, staring at her with surprise.

"You didn't tell him about this?" Dr. Fry asked, pointing to Michael.

"Michael wasn't talking to me at the time," Sara shrugged. "Neither Lincoln nor I thought it was wise to tell him about our living situation. And when we got back together, it just didn't seem important anymore."

"Michael, do I sense some jealousy towards your brother?" Dr. Fry asked him.

Michael laughed. "No!" Dr. Fry stared at him over his glasses, his pen poised over the paper in his hand. Michael looked from him to the floor and then he caught his eyes again. "Okay...okay, maybe a little."

"Hmmm..." Dr. Fry said, jotting a side, not about Lincoln. "I think maybe I should have a session with you and your brother alone, Michael."

"Jesus Christ," Sara rolled her eyes, moving further down the couch. "What, Michael? You think I want to do your brother? That I have some secret desire to make sure I made the right choice?"

"No, not you! Lincoln!" Michael said adamantly. "Lincoln would...well, you're his type, put it that way."

"Michael, why do you find it hard to believe your brother would..."

"...because he is my brother!" Michael rose to his feet and waved his arms. "I know him."

Sara arched an eyebrow and turned to Michael. "And Lincoln isn't my type?"

"Well, I don't know," Michael spat, turning from her and resting two sweaty palms to the wall beside the door.

"Sara?" Dr. Fry interrupted her stare. "Why didn't you tell Michael you lived with Lincoln?"

"Because of how he gets about Lincoln. He doesn't like that we're close." Sara turned back to Dr. Fry. "Lincoln and I couldn't date each other. We're both entirely too volatile. We'd kill each other within a week."

She paused, wanting to rile up Michael. "Not that the sex wouldn't be good."

Michael slammed his hands against the wall and scraped his nails down the paint as his clenched his fists. He rapidly blinked, seeing Lincoln's smug grin every time he did and imagining his hands all over Sara. "You two didn't tell me because something happened between you," he accused, spinning to face her with gritted teeth. "Something...happened. It must have done...Lincoln would have told me!"

"Michael..." Dr. Fry warned.

"Oh, yeah, Michael. There was that one night, after one too many beers. Wow, Linc's neck isn't the only thing that's big!" Sara smacked her hand against the leather of the sofa. "Sit your ass down and get some perspective. You think I would do that?"

Michael heaved a breath and counted to ten, closing his eyes and trying to slow his heart rate. "Are we done here?" He spat at Dr. Fry.

Dr. Fry tapped his pen on his paper. "Why don't you answer Sara's question?"

Michael rolled his eyes and gripped his hips with his hands. "No, I don't think you would do that," he snapped at her. "I think Lincoln would."

"Then why. . ." Sara stood, putting her hands on her hips. "When I offered Lincoln sex, did he say no?"

"I don't know Sara!" Michael snapped, pulling his cell phone from his pocket and slapping it into her hand. "Why don't you call him and ask him!"

Dr. Fry closed his notebook. "Michael, why are you so angry?"

"No, I don't want to talk anymore!" he bellowed, grabbing his coat from the couch and heading for the door. He shrugged on his khaki jacket and fished in his pocket for the keys. "Here..." he spat gruffly, throwing the keys to the couch and looking up at Sara. "...drive yourself home." Michael pulled the door open and slipped out, slamming it shut behind him.

Sara stood, mumbling her apologies to the doctor before grabbing the keys, and leaving.

  
Michael's feet pounded down the street, hands in pockets and head held low. He reached Lincoln's house and stood outside for a few minutes, just staring at the large, freshly painted whiteness of the outside. He took a breath and climbed the steps to the front door, pulling his hands from his pockets and knocking loudly.

Lincoln opened the door and looked at Michael. "Aren't you supposed to be at therapy?"

No words left Michael's mouth, only rage as he pulled his fist back and cracked Lincoln square in the face. Lincoln crumpled to the floor, his hand touching his nose and checking for blood. Michael's hand stung and began to turn purple, but the pain was minimal to the relief he felt at hitting Lincoln. "That's for not telling me," he growled, panting with dark eyes before he turned and left Lincoln in pain on the floor of his hallway.

  
Michael swung the door open and it hit the wall behind with a loud bang. He stormed into the house ahead of Sara and wrenched his jacket from his shoulders, tossing it onto the couch and not even looking at Sara. Therapy was supposed to help them communicate but all Michael could think about on the way home this week was Sara living with Lincoln while he was inside prison and his mind raged with thought. He hadn’t been able to bite his tongue and he had just exploded in the car and now he didn’t want to talk to her.

Sara walked into the house, tossing her keys and her purse and her phone onto the table. She stomped around until she found Michael. "You hit Lincoln? You punched your brother!"

Michael was slouched on the couch, almost laying down with half his body resting over the edge of the cushions and his chin resting to his chest. He didn't look at Sara but kept his eyes focus on the muted TV in front of him. He fiddled with the remote, rolling it over on his stomach. "It made me feel better," he mumbled.

"It made you feel better," Sara repeated, walking over to the TV and manually turning it off. "It made you feel better! Well, thank God, because we all know all that matters in this house is if things make Michael Scofield feel better!"

"I was watching that," he dismissed her words and leant forward to throw the remote onto the coffee table.

Sara watched him for a moment before shaking her head and moving to the stairs, "Italy is a bad idea."

"Yeah, maybe you can go with Lincoln," Michael scoffed, pushing himself to his feet and heading to the kitchen. He pulled a mug from the cupboard and flicked the kettle on to boil.

"You know!" Sara snapped. "This all your fault. You and your stupid therapy!"

“Oh, yeah…” Michael scoffed. “…The stupid therapy I suggested could help us save our marriage!”

"Well, it's not working is it?" Sara snapped, crossing her arms in front of her. "It keeps getting worse and worse!"

“Well, if you didn’t keep dropping bombshells, maybe we’d get somewhere!” Michael roared, thumping his feet against the floor as he headed upstairs to the bedroom. He kicked open the door and tore his t-shirt over his head, balling it in his hands and slamming it to the mattress with an echoing thud. Michael stared at it for a while. It was a t-shirt Lincoln had bought him.

"Why are you being so immature about this?" Sara demanded, following him into the bedroom. She watched as he threw his t-shirt down. "None of it would have even happened if you hadn't pushed me away!"

Michael spun to face her. “You moved in with my brother! Am I supposed to believe nothing happened!” he yelled, waving his arms and pointing at her menacingly. “You two had your cozy little secret while I was fucking shut up twenty three hours a day!”

"I needed something, Michael! Just be glad the something I found was him, okay? He was a part of you, I needed you and you weren't there and he was the closest thing I could find!" Sara raised her voice with each word. "I was supposed to move on, remember? Do you wish I had?"

Michael turned from her and a low, sadistic laugh left his throat. “Do you?” he spat. “How about I go back to prison and you and Linc can pick up where you had to leave off…how would that suit you?”

"How can you even say something like that," Sara snapped, turning away. She couldn't even look at him. "You know what you being in there did to me."

Michael’s anger rose inside of him. Why did Sara always make it about her? “Do you have any idea what being in there did to me?” he snapped through clenched teeth. “What being there without seeing you every single day did to me! And then I get out and find out you were with my brother?” Michael added, stalking from her to his dresser where there was a picture of Sara and Lincoln he had taken just after he got out of prison. Lincoln was smiling and had his arm thrown around Sara’s shoulder and his smile pressed firmly to her cheek while she scrunched her nose but didn’t resist. “My brother, Sara!” Michael roared, picking up the photograph and smashing it on the edge of the dresser.

"If it was so hard to be there without seeing me, Michael, all you had to do was not tell me to stay the hell away!" She flinched as he slammed the picture down, and she felt her anger grow. "You know what! Maybe I should have moved on!"

“Yeah, maybe you should have! Maybe waiting for one brother wasn’t as good as fucking the free one, right?!” he spat, spinning to face her again. “You can’t tell me nothing happened, Sara. I know Lincoln too well!”

"How dare you accuse me of that!" Sara yelled, pointing at him. "How dare you accuse Lincoln of that. He knows what we are, he knew what we were better than anyone! How I felt about you, how you felt about me! And you think he'd do that?" Sara bit her lip. "Do you want to know the truth, Michael? I showed up, drunk of my ass, throwing myself at him and he wouldn't have it!"

Michael gritted his teeth and turned away from her, his heart pounding in his chest and his blood boiling through his ears. “Then maybe I don’t know you as well as I thought. Maybe you and Lincoln should get married!” He spat, rushing past her and heading back down stairs, slamming his feet into every step as he went. He went into the kitchen and tore some photographs of his brother from the surface, throwing them to the ground.

"Michael!" Sara snapped, following him down the stairs. "Michael, stop it." She bent down, picking up the discarded pictures. "Would you be reasonable? Would you rather have had me been staying in Linc's guest room, or out doing who knows what with who knows who using anything and everything?"

“Oh, don’t try and blame this on me! Don’t try and make this about me!” he shouted, slamming his fists into the counter top. “Don’t try and make out you’d be back in the gutters if I hadn’t of come out of there and wanted you so badly!” he spat, looking down at the counter between them. His eyes fell on the silver toaster Lincoln had got them after they got married and with a grunt, he marched over to it, ripped the socket from the wall and threw it towards the kitchen door. It slid along the floor with a metallic scrape and hit the doorframe. “I want him out! Everything he has ever given you, I want out of my house!”

Sara pressed her hands to her face, trying to calm herself down. "Michael, you need to calm down, okay, honey? He's your brother. Your brother who you love so much that sometimes even I'm jealous. The brother that you practically threw your life away for." She bit her lip. "Don't do this, baby."

“No….no no no no no…” Michael said quickly and darkly, stepping back away from her and shaking his head from side to side. “Don’t say that. Don’t call me that!” he screamed at her, his voice bouncing off the walls and shaking the cupboards.

Sara took another step towards him, reaching for his arm. "Then what do you want me to call you? What do you want me to say? I am sorry, Michael, okay? I am sorry I didn't tell you."

Michael shook his head and took another step back from her, lifting his hands up to shield his face and stop her from touching him. “I don’t want to hear sorry…” Michael snapped. “…sorry means you did something wrong. Sorry means you’re lying to me and I don’t want to believe that.”

"Michael, I'm not. . . I'm not lying to you. . ." Sara bit her lip and tried to touch him again. "Nothing happened between me and Lincoln, okay? Nothing would ever happen. I love you."

“Then why didn’t you tell me! Why didn’t Lincoln come and visit me every week and say ‘oh, by the way, Sara’s living with me but it’s okay, I’m not fucking her!’” Michael bit out, ducking from her again and heading to the other side of the kitchen where he felt less inclined to take out his anger.

"Because Michael! Because of this right here!" Sara motioned to him and sighed. "You were so angry already. Mad at everything and everyone. How would it have made you feel? It's not like I stayed there for very long. Just until he was sure I wasn't going to kill myself."

Michael let out a long laugh to himself and buried his face in his hands. “Until he was sure? I bet it wasn’t long, right? I bet it was his idea to not tell me too? To protect me…” Michael narrowed his gaze as he spoke, his voice laced with sarcasm. “…Wow, Sara…” Michael said dryly, stalking to stand in front of her. “…I knew you were easy to manipulate but I had no idea Lincoln could do it.”

Sara's mouth fell open a little bit and she stared at him for a second. Before she could stop herself, she reached up and smacked him. She crossed her arm and shook her head. "You're right, Michael. Your brother isn't nearly as good at using people as you are."

“Okay, then go to him. Get out…” Michael said gruffly, grabbing Sara’s arm and yanking her from the kitchen. His face stung where she had hit him and he swallowed hard, trying to fight off flash backs from his childhood.

Sara didn't respond, refused to stoop to his level and walked upstairs to their bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Once inside, she took her suitcase from the closet and began to toss a few items inside.

Michael made his coffee and stood, resting his back against the counter amidst the mess in the kitchen. He wanted to follow Sara. He really did, but something inside of him told her to leave her alone. He sipped his coffee, not caring that it burned his throat and as he tilted the mug, he noticed the purple lining his skin. He sighed, the images of Lincoln tumbling to the floor, replaying in his mind. Michael moved to the sink, turned on the cold tap and let the water run over his knuckles while he flexed them.

Sara finished packing her suitcase, and pulled it slowly from the bed, moving back downstairs. She walked to the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe. "You should put some ice on those."

Michael turned to her and then let his eyes fall to her suitcase by her side. He let out a nervous laugh. "You’re leaving me," he nodded slowly. "Because I hit Lincoln." He returned his gaze back to the clear droplets running over his hand. "Well, at least it's not over some asshole called Josh," he shrugged. "We know how that argument ends."

"After you left. . ." Sara's voice trailed off, then she raised it a notice. "After you left me alone in therapy. Alone in therapy, Michael!" She swallowed hard. "Dr. Fry said it might be a good idea for us to spend a night apart."

Michael licked his lips and shut off the tap. He snatched the towel from the sideboard and rubbed it furiously over his hands. "I really don't want to know where you are going," he said low and then frowned with his thought process. "I know where you're going..." he clarified quickly, resting his hands on the sideboard and rocking his body back and fourth. "...I just don't want to hear you say it."

Sara sat the suitcase down, then crossed her arms. "I'm going to a hotel, Michael. I'm going to get a room for the night. By myself." She looked down to the floor. "I can't do this anymore. I physically can't."

"Can't do what? Can't be with me?" Michael asked her softly. He was tired of fighting because all it ever did was make him feel worse and made Sara upset.

"Not like this. Therapy isn't working, it's just bringing up all these deep-seeded issues and making us worse, Michael. Our relationship is so bipolar. We spend one day making love and the next we're screaming these hateful things at each other." She bit back a sob. "I can't live like this."

Michael turned to face her and rubbed his eyes slowly. "Sara, I love you so much," he began, his voice strong but with an air of fear mixed in. "And I can't stand hurting you anymore," he took a step towards her and smoothed his hands up her arms and twiddled a strand of her hair in between his fingers. He stared at it for a long while, letting his words actually do the talking for once. "You're right. For whatever reason, all we have is sex right now. And that's no situation to raise a young child in."

Sara bit her bottom lip. Blinking her tear filled eyes, she glanced away from him. "Maybe we just can't do this anymore."

Michael pulled his hand away from Sara and dug his hands into his pockets. He couldn't help touching her one more time and he quickly grabbed her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. It was a rushed kiss but it was slow and lingering and a tear fell from his eyes. "I can't watch you go...I'm sorry," Michael croaked, letting her go and brushing past her where he climbed the stairs two steps at a time and shut himself in their bedroom.


	22. Chapter 22

Before she knew what was happening, Sara ended up in a bar, a shot of whiskey in front of her.

“You’re not going to drink that are you?” Lincoln said smoothly, dragging his heavy bulk up onto a bar stool next to her and leaning down on his elbows. He was in the bar with a few friends but couldn’t mistake Sara’s voice as she had ordered her drink. He licked his lips and looked down at a puddle of alcohol in front of him, clutching his hands to his elbows. “What happened?”

"Why shouldn't I?" Sara murmured, keeping her eyes trained on the drink. It only figured he would be there. "I told him I stayed with you after he told me not to come see him anymore. He flipped out, threw some stuff, said some nasty things. I hit him. He threw me out."

“Whoa, back up a second…” Lincoln said, blinking harshly and leaning against the bar on one elbow while he held the other arm out to her. “…Did you say he threw you out? And you hit him?”

Sara picked up her drink and swirled it around, keeping her eyes on it. "That's what I said."

“Okay, stop this,” Lincoln said firmly, placing his palm over her drink and slamming the glass back down on the bar. He looked around the bar a little and leaned in closer to her. “Why did you even tell him? We agreed he could never know. You know what his mind does to him…”

"I want to drink it." Sara picked the glass back up and gave him a look. "And we were in therapy and being open and honest and we weren't supposed to have secrets."

“So you just told him. Like that…” Lincoln said angrily, putting pressure back to the glass and listening to it hit the bar again. “Don’t throw away years of being sober, Sara. Not because of this,” he pulled the shot away from her grasp and gave it to the barman, handing him a few bills to pay for it with a smile.

"Yes, I just told him. . . I just thought. . ." She glanced forlornly to her disappearing drink, then looked back to Linc. "I thought we'd reached a point where it would be okay. I point where he would get why it was what I needed."

“Sara, Michael will never understand how in love with him you were…are…” he corrected himself quickly when she glanced up at him. “His brain works differently to ours. He feels and he loves but he is essentially a robot. He can’t process the fact you might want as badly as him because, in his world, nobody feels lower than he does,” Lincoln said softly.

"He's pretty mad at you," Sara said softly, moving her eyes off of Lincoln. "He threw our toaster across the kitchen. And said he knew it was easy to manipulate me but was surprised you actually did."

“Why is he mad at me? I didn’t manipulate you…” Lincoln said, frowning to himself. “Why would he…” he paused, looking back at her quickly. “Oh no. He thinks…you and me…”

"I told him we didn't! That we would never!" Sara shook her head and felt her eyes fill with tears. "He knows how much we both love him, Lincoln."

Lincoln sighed heavily and banged his head on the bar. “Tell me you didn’t tell him about that night you turned up drunk…”

"You know I did!" Sara said. "He was talking about how he knew how you must have acted and I said, no actually, Michael, I was the one wanting the sex."

“Okay, see, there’s your problem right there,” Lincoln told her firmly, pointing at her. “Michael knew me for a long time before he met you and let's just say my track record with drunken women wasn’t…nice…” Lincoln said a little ashamed. “He saw me once a week, Sara…imagine how hard it was for him to believe I’d changed.”

"Well, he knows me if nothing else!" Sara shook her head angrily. "He knows how I feel about him, and how I felt when he pushed me away. He knows how much I still loved him."

Lincoln sighed and let his eyes fall closed. “Which is exactly why he thinks you would sleep with me, Sara. To try and forget him, or feel him…whatever the drunken you would want…could get…” Lincoln said calmly. “This is all my fault…If I hadn’t of let you stay, maybe none of this would have happened.”

"So you think letting me stay was the wrong thing to do?" Sara raised her voice a little. "I needed you, Lincoln!" She shook her head. "Maybe I just shouldn't have waited."

“Look…” Lincoln said sternly, sliding from his bar stool and pulling her arm to encourage her off of hers. “…We can sit here and say ‘maybe this’ and ‘maybe that’ but you have a husband at home, who I know loves more than he can handle, and he needs you right now,” Lincoln pulled his jacket off his shoulders and draped it over hers. “Plus, you hit him. You shouldn’t have hit him,” Lincoln said sadly.

"Maybe I like playing maybe. Maybe it's not even too late for it to not be maybe anymore. . ." Sara trailed off and gave Lincoln a look. "I just don't know how much longer Michael and I can do this dance of pretending to make what we have last." She crossed her arms. "He deserved to be hit."

“Are you pretending?” Lincoln asked her softly. “Do you want your marriage to fail?”

"Of course I don't want my marriage to fail," Sara snapped, shaking her head. "I love your brother more than anything. You know that. Sometimes I think maybe how much we love each other is too much. There's so much it just ends up squeezing and suffocating and hurting."

Lincoln watched her speak, listening intently and feeling his heart break. Sara was a broken shell, ready to give up on loving Michael, and all Lincoln wanted to do was beat some sense into his younger brother. “I think you should apologise,” Lincoln offered gently looking away from her for a second. “A lot of things hurt Michael, Sara. Do you have any idea what it feels like for someone he loves to hit him? It’s like someone you love offering you a full syringe when they know you’re clean. You’ll take it because you feel like you deserve it, but you know you don’t want it,” Lincoln said sadly, looking down in between them at his feet. “Michael has been offered a syringe his whole life, Sara. He doesn’t think he deserves anything else. You need to show him otherwise.”

Sara felt like her heart dropped out of her chest when Lincoln spoke to her. Her eyes stung with tears that she quickly blinked away. "I am sorry for hitting him, Linc. I am. But I don't. . ." She bit her lip and shook her head. "Sometimes he just says things and it's like he's doing it to purposely hurt or challenge me."

“Michael doesn’t want to hurt you when he says those things,” Lincoln assured her with half a smile. “He thinks, if he can make you angry enough, you’ll hate him more. He kinda thrives on it…” Lincoln shrugged, poking himself in the temple. “…Up here.”

"It just feels like an endless cycle sometimes, you know?" Sara scratched her eyebrow and sighed, shaking her head. "I don't hate him. I could never hate him. He just. . . I wish I could get all the way in."

Lincoln sighed and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, motioning behind himself to his party of friends who waved him off with happy grins. He led Sara out of the smoke filled bar onto the coolness of the street and she began to shiver. “I’ll come home with you…talk some sense into him, okay?”

"Linc, I'm not sure that's such a good idea. . ." Sara drawled out slowly. "I mean. He's more angry with you than he is me. And when I said he threw me out, Linc, I meant it literally. He grabbed me and shoved me out of the house."

“Seriously?” Lincoln said amazed. “I thought he’d shout and you’d leave…wow, um…okay. Maybe I shouldn’t come with you,” he said dryly, pushing his hands into his pockets and kicking a stone on the sidewalk. “Maybe you shouldn’t wear my jacket all the way home, either,” Lincoln suggested, pointing to his jacket draped over her shoulders with a laugh. “Go home. Show him it has only ever been him. And if he resists…” Lincoln paused. “…Well, I don’t know. Tie him up or something. He’ll let you in,” he nodded. “Give him time.”

Sara sighed and shrugged Lincoln's jacket off, hanging it back to him. "I don't know, Linc. I just don't know anymore. All I ever do is give him time. He's just going to find something else to blow up about."

Lincoln was just about to answer when his cell started ringing. He looked at Sara apologetically and fished it from his pocket, looking at the name on the screen. It was Michael. “It’s Michael…” Lincoln said quickly, flipping the cell open and pressing it to his ear. “Mike…whoa buddy…slow down…” Lincoln said frantically as Michael rambled on the other end of the phone. Lincoln could hear banging and the clatter of smashed glass. “..okay, calm down…” Lincoln said with a frown.

“I can’t!” Michael screamed, slapping his heavy hand into the counter onto a shard of broken mug. “Dammit!” he cursed, whipping the towel from the oven handle and wrapping it around his bleeding palm. “I threw her out, Linc. I threw Sara out,” he said sadly.

“You what? Why?” Lincoln asked, looking at Sara and pretending to not know what his brother was talking about. “Why would you do that?!”

“We fought…a…and I grabbed her and threw her out,” Michael said, pacing the kitchen and holding his bound hand to his head. “I said some evil shit this time Linc. I don’t know if there is any coming back from this,” Michael said quickly and urgently, his hands shaking and his breath ragged.

“Okay, Mike…Michael…listen to me,” Lincoln said firmly, stopping in the street. “Stop thinking like that. Stop thinking you know what is best for your marriage because there are two people in it. Just…stop thinking at all,” Lincoln said with a sigh. “You know, for someone so smart, you have absolutely no idea, Michael.”

“I know!” Michael yelled and continued his pacing. “She hasn’t got her cell phone…her keys…a coat…God, Linc. What have I done?” Michael said, his bottom lip quivering when the realisation hit him and he sunk against the kitchen cupboards and slid to the floor. He slammed his head into the surface behind him, gritting his teeth and blinking away the pain as a tear rolled down his cheek and his hand stung from being lacerated. “What have I done?”

“Michael, don’t cry…” Lincoln said, looking at Sara and shaking his head slowly. “I’ll go and find her, okay? You stay there in case she comes home. And clean the god damn place up will you, before you have nothing left to eat or drink from,” Lincoln snapped, a little irritated as he flipped the phone shut and ended the call.

Sara crossed her arms over her chest as Lincoln hung up the phone. "I don't want to go home."

“Why not?” Lincoln asked surprised. “He’s sorry. That’s what you wanted,” Lincoln shrieked confused, holding the phone out towards her as if it was Michael.

"I don't know what I want!" Sara snapped. "I want it to not have to come to this!"

“This? Wandering the streets with your brother in law, you mean?” Lincoln chuckled weakly. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive,” he said slowly, hanging his head and biting his lip. “Do you want to stay at mine? My spare room misses you.”

"No." Sara sighed and shook her head. "I guess I'd better just go home and deal with it. Deal with him. I have to try to fix things again."

“Sara, why do I get the feeling you find Michael tedious and a chore?” Lincoln asked softly, taking a step sideways from her as they walked. “He’s not your child, Sara. He’s your husband. Couples fight, all the time. It’s a part of any relationship, trust me,” he smiled at her. “But the couples that come back from it, time and time again? Those are the ones that are meant to be. You and Michael are meant to be, Sara.”

"We'll see," Sara muttered, shrugging her shoulders. "We'll see how long we can keep coming back, keep from killing each other. It's like he is my kid sometimes, Lincoln! It's like he can't control himself!"

Lincoln looked at her and smiled broadly, shaking his head a little. “He can’t,” he said with an arched eyebrow. “The more you give in to his low self-worth and argue back, the worse he gets,” he chuckled, pushing his hands back into his pockets and sighing. “Welcome to life with Michael Scofield.”

"It's a wild ride. . ." Sara rolled her eyes. "Well. I guess it's now or never. Thanks for not letting me drink."

“Your welcome,” Lincoln smiled with a nod. “I know Michael can be trying to the extreme, believe me. Be thankful you never knew him as a teenager,” Lincoln chuckled, rolling his eyes as he recalled the trouble he had keeping matching plates and a working TV set while Michael grew up. “And I know you just as well, Sara. You didn’t want that drink,” he said firmly. “You wanted a way out. A way to forget everything. But let me tell you…” he said, stopping her with gentle pressure to her wrist. “…It took more courage to not drink it than it would ever take to drink it.”

"Yeah. That's what they say." She turned to him and tilted her head to the side, just a little. "You're always there to catch me when I'm about to fall."

“That’s because I’m good at it,” Lincoln said with a modest smile, pulling her into a crushing hug. “Plus, who better to save you from Michael than the person who thrust him upon you?” he laughed, his words rumbling from his chest as he rested his chin to the top of her head.

Sara wrapped her arms around Lincoln's middle, resting her head against his chest. She sighed, "Maybe I should have just married you, Linc. Seems like we get along better anyway."

“Nah…” Lincoln said, scrunching his nose up and shaking his head. “…We get on so well because we aren’t married. I’d lie, probably cheat…and you’d end up leaving me for Michael anyway,” he shrugged playfully.

"Probably," Sara shrugged as she pulled away from the hug. "I mean, I guess I do love him and stuff."

“You guess?” Lincoln asked a little insulted on behalf of his brother. “I’d guess, and I’m not a psychologist, so don’t quote me here…but I’d guess you can’t stop thinking about him. At home, at work…” he paused, flashing her a naughty smile. “…In the shower. He’s everywhere you go, isn’t he? You can’t escape him and you love him so much you hate it sometimes, right?”

A small grin lit up Sara's face. "Yeah, that's pretty much it, Burrows." She fell silent for a moment, then looked down. "I'd better get home to him."

“Yes. Get your ass home,” Lincoln told her, pointing to their house that they had suddenly almost reached through aimless walking. “Oh, Sara?” Lincoln called, stopping her in her tracks. “There was some hissing…and some groaning…possibly some blood,” he said with a sympathetic glance. “Be gentle with him,” he smiled softly, pulling his jacket back on and flipping the collar up to keep his neck warm.

Sara nodded, "Always." With another nod to Linc, she turned around and hurried up the front lawn. She paused for a second in front of their large door, then softly knocked.

Michael lifted his head from his hands, straining his ears to listen for a knocking he almost didn’t hear. He paused, only hearing the buzz of silence in his ears as he held his breath and heard it again. Scrambling to his feet, clutching his cut palm to his chest, he skidding from the kitchen and swallowed hard, pulling the door open. He froze, looking down at her with watery eyes. He wanted to hug her, kiss her, make everything he had said disappear but he was stuck. And he just stared with a nervous glance.

Sara cleared her throat when he opened the door. He looked like shit. She pressed her hand to her forehead and motioned towards the house. "Can I come back in."

Again Michael found himself at a loss for words. Nothing he would say could make anything better, he knew that. He sidestepped away from the door, standing behind it as she walked in. He kept his eyes trained to the floor and licked his lips nervously.

"I, uh. . ." Sara paused, then moved back into the lounge, wondering how bad Michael had wrecked the house. "I went to a bar."

“I only hit the kitchen…” Michael said ashamedly, noticing her looking around the lounge. He pushed the door closed when she was inside and leaned his back against the wood. “I started to tidy up but…” he paused, lifting his wrapped hand with a sorrowful smile.

Sara bit her lip and took another step towards him. She held out her hand and motioned towards his injured palm. "Can I look at it?"

Michael held out his hand for her and swallowed hard, as he took his hand in her, twisting it around to find the end of his make shift bandage. He watched her hands as she unraveled the towel, wincing when it reached the end and the fabric had become stuck to his cut.

Sara finished peeling the make-shift bandage off all the way, glancing up and giving him an apologetic look. "Well, it's not too bad. . . Come on. . ." She tugged on his wrist and led him upstairs to the bathroom. She took out the peroxide, and some gauze before glancing back to him. "You okay?"

“Are you?” Michael spoke softly, twisting his arm a little so he could caress her forearm with his long bloodied fingers. “You don’t have to do this you know. You always fix me. I must be a real pain in the ass,” he sighed, letting his hand drop from her skin and hover over the sink ready for the wincing sting of peroxide.

"I do it because I love you. . ." Sara murmured softly. She turned on the tap and ran his hand under the warm water, trying to wash away the excess blood so she could see better to clean. When she was convinced it had been enough, she pulled his wrist out from under the water and held the peroxide up over him. "This is going to sting."

“Doesn’t it always?” Michael said sadly, looking back up to her and using his wound as a metaphor for the argument. He hated fighting, more then he could ever say. It made him feel empty, alone and afraid to be around himself. It made him into someone he didn’t recognise or like, let alone expect Sara to be married to.

"It's a good thing you have a high tolerance for pain then," Sara murmured, pouring the liquid on his hand, then dabbing at him with a towel. She placed the gauze over the wound, then pressed a large band-aid over the area. "You seem to get stung a lot."

Michael looked away from her, focusing on the idle bar of soap on the edge of the sink. “It’s my own fault…” he shrugged, looking back to her slowly. “…I can’t leave well alone and I get hurt,” he said, his voice low and laced with regrets.

"It's not always your fault," Sara shook her head slowly and glanced to the floor. "Not everything is always your fault, Michael."

“I always feel like it is,” he added, not looking away from her. He closed his hand around hers and saw the rosy blush creep up in her cheeks. “I’m sorry I broke our toaster,” he offered feebly. “And I’m sorry I broke your heart with what I said.”

"We needed a new toaster anyway. It would either get too done or not done at all. Leave it to Linc to buy the cheapest toaster he could find. . ." She finally turned back to look at him. "And you didn't break my heart. You hurt me, yeah. But it's all fixable."

“Then I’m sorry I hurt you. I’d never mean to hurt you, you know that right?” he said timidly, holding her gaze while he brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “I couldn’t even pretend to mean it.”

"I know, Michael. . ." Sara nodded slowly and watched as he pressed his lips to her hand. "And I am sorry I hit you. I could never even begin to tell you how sorry I really am."

Michael shrugged, closing his eyes and savouring the feel of her warm skin on his lips. He finally moved her hand and pressing it to her cheek, leaning against it with a sigh. “It’s not like I’m a stranger to being abused,” he said sadly, keeping his eyes closed. “Sometimes I think I deserved it. There had to be a reason my foster dad hit me, right?”

"Don't ever say that." Sara kept her voice soft, but she spoke firmly. Leaning forward, she pressed her forehead against his. "You can't possibly believe that."

Michael took her other hand in his and flattened her palm against his chest so she could feel the soft thumping of his heart. “In here I do…”

Sara felt tears fill her eyes and she shook her head. "No, Michael. No. God, I'm so sorry. . ." She pressed her forehead to his cheek. "I'm so sorry I hit you. I didn't mean it. You didn't deserve it."

Michael’s barrier broke and his breath hitched as he began to cry. “But I did,” he squeaked, his voice obstructed by the lump in his throat. “I said some horrible things…thing that I wish I could take back…”

Sara shook her head again, this time harder. "You didn't say anything about me that wasn't true, Michael."

“I accused you of sleeping with my brother…” he sighed, rolling his forehead and looking away from her. “…I know you never would. My heart knows you never would…It’s just…” he clenched his jaw, poking himself in the temple. “…I wish this worked normally. I wish I was normal.”

"You are normal," Sara whispered softly. "And I understand that you were mad and I should have told you sooner, Michael, we both should have. But you have to know how much I love you."

“I do…” Michael whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear. “…Believe me, I know. Everything I do….everything I put you through…the fact that you’re standing her, right now, proves your love, Sara.”

Sara sniffled and nodded slowly. "You don't make it easy. You know that, right? Loving you is one of the most complicated things I've ever had to do."

Michael laughed weakly and lifted his head to finally look at her. “I’m sorry,” he smiled, his lips twitching into the movement before it faded away. “I’m sorry I’m complicated. I really am. I try to be other things but I don’t know how to be any different. Would you have me any other way, though?” he arched his brow at her question, leaning against the sink and feeling the porcelain dig into the throbbing muscles at the small of his back.

"No, I love everything about you," Sara murmured, brushing her lips across his. "Really, Michael. Everything you are makes up a part of you. And I'm the luckiest woman in the world."

Michael kissed her back for a second and then frowned at her. “Why are you kissing me? I don’t deserve for you to forgive me, Sara,” he added sadly, slipping from the space between them and moving back into the bedroom.

"What do you want me to do then, Michael?" Sara followed him into the bedroom. She gave him a forlorn glance. "Do you want me to stay mad? Do you want me to yell at you?"

“I…” Michael began, collapsing down onto the edge of the bed. “…I don’t know. I just feel…” he started, looking down to the floor at his bare feet and wishing he knew what to say. He felt like no amount of words would ever make him believe how much Sara loved him or how much he loved her. “…I feel…” he started again, before rubbing his hands over his face and letting out a frustrated growl. “…unworthy? Of you.”

"Well, you aren't," Sara told him firmly, closing the distance between them. "You are completely worthy. You are more than I ever deserved, Michael. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to have babies with you and get old and senile with you."

“Senile?” Michael asked with a raised eyebrow. “You know when we’re senile our kids will put us in a home, right? And I’ll have to break us out,” he chuckled to himself. He looked up to her smiling face and pulled her closer to him with two firm hands on her hips. He pressed his cheek to her belly, wrapping his arms around her waist and sighing contently as he inhaled her scent. “I am sorry again,” he murmured against her top.

Sara wrapped her arms around him and sighed. "Oh, baby. Stop saying you're sorry. It's okay. Alright?"

“Okay…” Michael said softly, lifting his head and tilting it back to look up into her eyes again. “…But I really am. Just…just tell me you know that. Just say, ‘Michael, I know you’re sorry and you didn’t mean anything you said’. Please, Sara. I need to hear it,” he pleaded.

"Michael. . ." Sara trailed off and brushed her lips across his. "I know you're sorry and you didn't mean anything you said. And I'm sorry too. I should never have touched you like that."

“Thank you…” Michael said gently with a relieved smile. He smoothed his hands over the small of her back, letting them creep under her top and feel her skin under his hands. “…No one has ever apologised for hitting me before,” he swallowed again, kissing her tenderly and resting his forehead to hers. “Thank you.”

"I'll never do it again," Sara promised, pressing her mouth against his for another slower kiss. She moved her kisses over, trailing a pathway down his neck. "I love you so much."

“Hmm…” Michael hummed, gasping a little as her kisses seared his skin. “…I love you too, Sara. Don’t ever forget that…” he whispered, shuffling his body further onto the bed and pulling her onto his lap where he resumed their feverish kisses.

"Trust me. . ." Sara wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. "I could never, ever forget it."


	23. Chapter 23

Therapy was, as Lincoln had expected, weird. The room was dimly lit because the sun had began to set outside and the room was too high up on the building to recognise the horizon anymore. Dr. Fry had suggested Lincoln attend one of the therapy sessions so they could all vent their fears and frustrations. Lincoln had suggested that Dr. Fry should be stuffed into his protected pocket on his tweed jacket, but Sara had talked him into it. Sitting on the end of the leather couch he took a breath, rolled his eyes around the ceiling and blew the breath out of his lips slowly, slapping his hands to his thighs.

Sara sat on the opposite end of the couch, legs crossed. She drummed her finger on her knees, then sighed. Finally, she looked over to Lincoln. "You don't have to be nervous."

Lincoln snapped his head from the statue on Dr. fry’s desk he had been staring at, trying to make out what it was. “I’m not nervous,” he said casually. “Should I be?”

Sara gave him a soft smile and leaned over, placing her hand gently on his arm. "Lincoln, I haven't seen you so nervous since your execution day."

“So, this Dr. Fry…” he began, sucking in another breath. “…Does he have a way…I mean, is he good at extracting information?” he laughed, turning in his seat and leaning towards her like a whispering child. “Will he know you caught me masturbating just be looking at us?”

"No," Sara rolled her eyes and shrugged a little, dropping her voice to a whisper. "I really don't like him. But we're doing this for Michael, remember."

“Michael, right,” Lincoln confirmed with a nod, pushing himself back into his space just as the door opened and Dr. Fry walked in. Lincoln watched him move around the couch, plucking a sharp pencil from his desk and his notepad from the draw.

“Good afternoon, Sara. And this is?” he raised his brows at her, pointing the rubber tip of his pencil towards Lincoln. “That’s not you’re husband,” he smiled softly.

"My other husband," Sara glanced over towards Lincoln and winked. She smiled back at Dr. Fry. "This is Michael's brother, Lincoln."

Dr. Fry gave Lincoln a small smile and looked him up and down. He noted that he looked like Michael apart from being heavier built and he was wearing a smile a lot more than his brother. “Older or younger?”

“Older,” Lincoln said with a broad grin. He pushed himself off the creaking leather couch and extended his hand to Dr. Fry. “Lincoln Burrows, nice to meet you.”

“Burrows?” Dr. Fry said, his intrigue aroused. He turned to Sara with a quirked brow and looked over the top of his glasses as he took a seat down opposite them. “Michael Scofield. Lincoln Burrows. Sara Scofield-Burrows?” he teased, waiting for her response.

"Something like that," Sara quipped, glancing over to Lincoln. "They switch me off when they get bored." She paused. "Lincoln has their fathers last name, Michael has their mothers."

Dr. Fry took some notes and Lincoln looked worriedly at Sara. “We’re not really married,” he said quickly.

Dr. Fry looked up at him and then smiled. “Of course,” he agreed, pen poised. “That would be illegal,” he said and carried on writing. “Sara, why do you joke about being married to your brother-in-law?”

Sara shrugged and glanced back over to Lincoln. "It's just a joke. Since you know, he's in love with me and everything."

Dr. Fry arched an eyebrow and made a note. "And are you in love with your brother's wife, Mr. Burrows?"

“What?! No!” Lincoln laughed heartily, looking towards Sara with a grin. “We are friends. Sara’s my best friend,” Lincoln nodded, blushing a little at his own words.

“Isn’t your husband supposed to be your best friend, Sara?” Dr. Fry asked her, crossing his legs and reclining in his chair.

"Michael is my best friend," Sara said seriously, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "But that doesn't mean Lincoln can't be too. I'm close to them in different ways. Obviously."

“And where is Michael today?” he added quickly, noting the time on his watch. “Is he late?”

"Michael's running late," Sara shifted on the couch. "He must have had to stay over at the office."

Dr. Fry turned his attention to Linc. "Do you have many serious relationships Lincoln?"

Lincoln pinched his lip between his thumb and finger and looked over to the psychiatrist with a low groan. “Hmm?” he said quickly. “Um, no. Michael and Sara are my serious relationships.”

Dr. Fry made a small noise and made a notation. "Do you date, Lincoln?"

“I haven’t since before prison…” Lincoln trailed off, frowning a little.

Dr. Fry made another, longer notation. "And why do you think that is?"

“Nobody wants to screw a celebrity?” Lincoln chuckled, looking over as Sara while he slapped his knee.

Dr. Fry gave Lincoln a bemused smile. "And have you ever felt yourself attracted to Sara?"

“Of course!” Lincoln said blatantly. “You’ve seen Sara, right?” He smirked and gave her a wink. “But Sara married Michael. And no, I am not bitter about it,” Lincoln scoffed.

"I didn't ask if you were bitter about it," Dr. Fry leaned back and crossed his leg. "Are you, Lincoln?"

Lincoln looked over at Sara again and held his breath. He wasn’t bitter Sara had married Michael, but he did love her. “No,” he said simply, his voice a little dark.

Dr. Fry made another note and smiled at Lincoln. "How do you feel about Michael and Sara's relationship?"

Lincoln looked confused for a second. Therapy was sounding a lot like high school. “I am proud of them. They’ve overcome so much to get where they are and I hope they are together forever,” Lincoln smiled. He genuinely was proud of both of them and he couldn’t be happier.

“Sara, did you know that sometimes your joking with Lincoln hurts Michael?” Dr. Fry pointed out, looking back through some notes. “Do you think he would agree to a session with his brother?”

Sara leaned back against the couch and glanced from Lincoln to Dr. Fry. "I don't understand why Lincoln and I joking around would hurt Michael. He knows it's all in good fun."

Dr. Fry made another noise in his throat and made a notation. “Does Michael tell you about it? How it makes him feel?”

Sara tilted her head to the side. "No, we've never actually discussed it."

“Should they have?” Lincoln piped in. “I mean, I think Michael would make a point to tell either me or Sara if it was a problem.”

Dr. Fry cleared his throat. "Are you ever not joking, Lincoln?"

Lincoln frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “What does that mean?” he snapped. “I can’t joke?”

"No," Dr. Fry glanced to Sara. "I mean, is it ever not exactly a joke?"

“You think…” Lincoln looked between Sara and Dr. Fry and then began to laugh. “…You think I am in love with my brother’s wife?”

Dr. Fry shrugged. "That's not what I said, now is it?"

Lincoln frowned and sat back hard against the couch cushions like a spoilt child. He twisted his lip under his teeth, biting on the flesh for a while before looking over to Sara for help. Was he in love with Sara? Surely not. “What do you think? Think I am in love with you and I don’t date because I am saving myself for your marriage breakdown?” he shot sarcastically.

"Why are you snapping at me?" Sara snapped back at him, leaning forward. "When have I ever said you were in love with me, Lincoln?"

“Are you gay, Lincoln?” Dr. Fry said suddenly, not lifting his eyes from the paper in front of him.

Lincoln’s head whipped to the doctor and his jaw hung open in shock. He was about to answer when he suddenly looked back at Sara and thumbed towards Dr. Fry. “Can he ask that?”

"I think he can ask whatever he wants to," Sara said softly. She turned to look at Dr. Fry, rolling her eyes. "No, Linc isn't gay. Or in love with me."

“Hmm…” Dr. Fry trailed off, plunging the room into silence while he scribbled some notes. “Sara, When Michael arrives, would you consent to a session with just Lincoln and Michael? I guess I am asking you to leave.”

Sara looked back to Lincoln, then nodded slowly. "Yeah, if it's okay with Michael, I'll leave."

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and then Michael poked his head around the corner. He offered Sara a warm smile and gave Lincoln a nod before walking into the room and sliding his jacket off. He was in a suit, straight from the office, and he unbuttoned his sleeves to roll up the long, blue sleeves. “Sorry I’m late,” he said quickly, smacking Lincoln’s knee as he walked past and planting himself on the other end of the couch so Sara was between them.

Sara reached over and squeezed Michael's knee, giving him a soft smile. She leaned towards him, dropping her voice a little. "How was work?"

Michael leant into her and sighed. “Work was good,” he smiled and pressed his lips to hers quickly.

Sara smiled at him for a moment, and was snapped out of their quiet moment by Dr. Fry clearing his throat. "Michael, would you mind of I asked Sara to leave?"

Michael looked puzzled for a second but then shrugged. Dr. Fry had hinted before our a session with Lincoln by himself. “Not at all,” he said and then turned back to Sara. “You’ll be okay?” he whispered, taking her hand in his and brushing his thumb over her knuckles.

"Yeah," Sara nodded slowly and smiled at him. "I'll just go shopping or something. Call me when you're done, okay, baby?" She moved to stand up. "I rode with Linc, can I have your keys?"

Michael stood up with her and padded his pockets for his keys. He pulled them from the material of his pants and handed them to her, holding onto her hand and puling her towards him for another quick kiss. “Be gentle on my credit card,” he whispered with a wry smile.

"Maybe I'll get you something nice," Sara teased softly. She kissed him again. "Bye, baby." Walking out, she placed her hand on Lincoln's shoulder. "See ya later, bud."

Lincoln rested his hand over Sara’s and laid his head back on the couch as she passed him, giving her a soft smile. Michael sat back onto the couch beside his brother and rubbed his hands over the material of his black pants nervously. “So…”

Dr. Fry decided to jump right into things once Sara had left the room. "Michael, how do you feel about Sara's relationship with your brother?"

Michael was taken back for a second and twisted his face into a confused smile. “What relationship? Hey are friends,” Michael shrugged.

Dr. Fry smiled at Michael. "They seem very close. That doesn't bother you at all?"

“Sometimes,” Michael shrugged, not looking at Lincoln. “But I know nothing would come of anything.”

Lincoln looked sideways to his brother who had suddenly become more honest than he had even known in five minutes. Dr. Fry was good. “Sometimes?”

Michael kept his eyes on his hands in his lap and shrugged again. “I think a lot of things, Linc. Sometimes they are not so good.”

Dr. Fry made a note before glancing back to the brothers. "What sorts of things do you think, Michael? Tell Lincoln."

“Yeah, come on Mike. Tell me,” Lincoln said softly, turning in his seat and resting his arm across the back of the couch.

Michael was silent for a while and then his heaved a sigh. “Sometimes I think that when I was in prison, you and Sara had more then a friendship,” he admitted shyly. “And sometimes, it makes me mad and I lash out at Sara and we fight.”

Dr. Fry made a noise, then coughed. "Lincoln, when Michael was in prison did you ever consider or want more than a friendship with Sara?"

“This is a place of honesty, right?” Lincoln asked the doctor with a nod.

Dr. Fry nodded. "Of course it is, Lincoln."

Lincoln hesitated and then shuffled further from Michael. “I grew attached to Sara, but I never acted on it,” he said quickly when Michael shot him a look.

“You what?” he said darkly, grinding his teeth together.

"Michael. . ." Dr. Fry warned gently. "Let Lincoln be honest."

“Nothing ever happened, Mike. I swear to you. Sara wouldn’t do that to you,” Lincoln said softly, reaching for his brother’s shoulder. Michael shrugged him off and focused on a patch of carpet.

“But you would?” Michael spat, gulping hard.

"Michael." Dr Fry leaned forward in his chair. "That's not what Lincoln is saying, I don't think."

“Right,” Lincoln agreed, shuffling closer to his brother. “I wouldn’t ever do that to you.”

"Michael. . ." Dr. Fry leaned closer towards them and motioned for Lincoln to scoot farther away from his brother. "Tell Lincoln how you're feeling."

Michael rubbed a tensed hand over his jaw and growled. “Pissed off. Can I say pissed off? Fuck it. Pissed off!” Michael practically screamed at Lincoln.

“Mike, I was being honest!” Lincoln objected. “Feelings are not actions and they never have to be.”

“Oh my god, you think?” Michael spat, leaning towards his brother.

"Michael, sit back," Dr. Fry warned, standing up and placing his notepad between the two brothers. "Lincoln, did anything inappropriate ever happen with you and Sara?"

“No!” Lincoln said quickly, resting back against the couch again. Dr. Fry moved back away from them and Lincoln panted a little. “Well…” he began and that was enough to make Michael see red. He was across the couch quicker then anyone could have anticipated and had his hands around Lincoln’s throat.

“Tell me! Tell me why I shouldn’t strangle you!” he spat, his breath beating Lincoln’s face.

"Michael!" Dr. Fry stood up and placed his hand on Michael's shoulder. "Michael. Let go of your brother. Right now."

“Why should I!” Michael roared.

“Michael!” Lincoln choked out, equally matched but only just holding his brother’s hands from gripping harder.

"Michael!" Dr. Fry did his best to physically pry him away from Lincoln. "Sit down and stop it!"

Michael lurched for his brother again, restrained by Dr. Fry’s grip on his arms. “Didn’t I tell you Linc? I was sooooo in love with Vee!” he spat maliciously.

Lincoln jumped to his feet, rubbing his hand over his throat. “Don’t you dare,” he muttered, glaring at Michael. “Leave her out of this!” he yelled, taking a step towards his already antagonised brother and pointing at his wicked grin. “Shut up, Michael! Shut up!”

“I almost had her. One night after we’d been out. But you called and interrupted the moment!” Michael roared, struggling against Dr. Fry.

“You liar!” Lincoln bellowed, pushing against Michael’s chest and making Dr. Fry let him go. Michael rushed forward, grabbed Lincoln around the waist and barged him with his shoulder into the couch. The pair hit the leather with a soft thud and Michael scuffled upright to swing a punch at Lincoln. Lincoln caught his wrist and squeezed, trying to control Michael’s outburst. “Michael! Michael stop!”

"Michael Scofield!" Dr. Fry raised his voice and smacked his notepad down on the table. "How do you think Sara would react to this behavior?"

“Yeah,” Lincoln agreed with a quick nod, his breath ragged and quick from his sudden exertion. “Think of Sara.”

Michael hissed through his teeth and clenched his jaw and closed his fists even tighter. “Don’t you say her name!”

"Michael," Dr. Fry softened his tone and sat back down. "Didn't you tell Sara not to wait for you when you went back to prison?"

“Yeah, so what?” Michael snapped, finally letting up and allowing Lincoln to push him off. Michael stood back and looked at Dr. Fry with an angry scowl. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

Dr. Fry motioned for Michael to sit down. "So if Sara had moved on Michael, it wouldn't have been a betrayal."

Michael shook his head and run a hand over his scalp. “Yes. With Lincoln it would have been.” He found his way to the huge window that overlooked the city and he pressed a hand to it, splaying his fingers against the cool glass and resting his forehead against the glass as he watched the traffic below.

Dr. Fry glanced down to his notes. "But nothing happened, right, Lincoln?"

“No…” Lincoln rasped and then cleared his throat painfully. “…Nothing. Sara came onto me once, and I was aroused, but I stopped it,” he said, watching Michael’s hands close against the glass into a fist again. “I stopped it for you, Mike.”

Dr. Fry gave Michael a look, then looked down to his pad. He sighed softly, posing a question for each man. "Are you jealous of your brother?"

“Yes,” Lincoln said softly.

“No,” Michael growled at the same time.

Dr. Fry glanced between them. "Lincoln, what are you jealous of?"

Lincoln sighed and turned away and stalked to the other side of the room. “Michael has everything! He got the girl and saved the day!”

“What the fuck, Lincoln?” Michael spat, turning to his brother. “You think I didn’t risk everything I had ever known and everyone I had ever loved to save your stupid ass?”

“I just wish I had what you and Sara have!” Lincoln bellowed turning to him again. Before he could stop the next words from leaving his mouth, the tumbled out into the room. “I wish I had it all with Veronica…”

Dr. Fry glanced towards him. "Veronica?"

Ignoring Dr. Fry’s question for a minute, Michael’s heart cracked for his brother. “You can’t have Veronica,” he said softly. “You have to move on.”

Lincoln covered his face with his hands and let out a small laugh. “You don’t think I’ve tried?”

“Have you?” Michael asked him seriously, knowing full well he probably hadn’t. “She’s not coming back, Linc.”

Dr. Fry was quiet for a moment. "Do you think you could get over Veronica with Sara, Lincoln?"

Michael’s head swung towards Dr. Fry and his jaw dropped open a little. “What are you suggesting?” he asked concerned. “A threesome?” he almost laughed.

“I can’t move on with anyone,” Lincoln said sadly.

"I wasn't suggesting anything," Dr. Fry told Michael softly. He made another note. "Michael, do you think Lincoln is in love with your wife?"

Lincoln watched his brother turn away from him again and inspect the bustling rush hour traffic below. “I don’t know what to think of him anymore.”

Dr. Fry looked to Lincoln. "Do you love Sara?"

Lincoln directed his words at the doctor but he didn’t tear his eyes from his brother. “I love Sara, but I am not in love with her.”

Dr. Fry made another note. "And do you think Sara loves Lincoln, Michael?"

Michael heaved a breath and rolled his head back, planting his hands on his hips and sighing heavily. “I don’t think Sara loves him like he loves her…or used to love her…” he shook his head and turned towards Lincoln again. “I don’t even know you anymore.”

“Mike…” Lincoln offered gently, taking a step towards him but he was stopped by Michael’s open palm.

"Michael. . ." Dr. Fry tried gently. "Is this really worth getting so mad at Lincoln about?"

“Have you ever been handed an armed grenade, Doctor?” Michael asked sarcastically, using the metaphor for his heart. He felt like, deep down, he was breaking. Exploding into a million piece are the biggest revelation of his life. “I can’t escape this. It’s been handed to me.”

"Do you think Lincoln is in love with Sara now?" Dr. Fry asked. He closed his notebook. "Do you trust him or Sara? Do you feel like your marriage is threatened?"

Michael let our a short laugh and looked back out of the window. “You bet,” he said, nodding quickly. “I can’t go home…” he rambled shaking his head. “I have to go away…”

“Michael…” Lincoln darted for him and tried to grab his arm to stop him leaving. Michael shook him off, pointed a finger at him before shaking his hand into a fist.

“Just….don’t stop me, Lincoln. Just Don’t,” he said darkly, his anger on the verge of boiling over again.

"Michael?" Dr. Fry tried to coax him back. "How is Sara going to feel when you don't show up at home. She hasn't done anything to deserve that."

For once in his outburst, Michael listened to the doctor. He was right, Sara hadn’t deserved to be neglected. “You’re right…” he confirmed his thoughts and words with a swift nod. “I have to find her.”

“Michael, what are you going to do?” Lincoln suddenly asked, concerned when his brother started rambling to himself as he shrugged his jacket back on.

  
Sara pulled Michael's truck into the driveway, turning the engine off and grabbing her bags. She moved slowly to the front door, digging in her purse for her keys.

“Sara!” Michael called as he ran up the driveway. His tie had been wrenched to the side and hung loosely around his neck while tiny beads of sweat ran over his brow and pooled at the collar of his shirt. “Sara, wait!”

Sara turned around, leaving her key in the front door. She glanced around, giving Michael a confused look. "Baby, what's going on?"

Michael’s shoes slapped against the driveway as he came to a stop just next to her. He swallowed hard and gasped for breath, catching his sides and hunching over. “So…” he panted. “Lincoln confessed his love for you in therapy…” he gasped. “…you love him?”

"Did you walk here?!" Sara glanced around and took Michael by the arm. She led him to the front door. "Let's go inside, honey. What are you talking about?"

Michael shook from her grasp and almost fell backwards out of the front door. “No, I ran actually,” he panted, shaking his head. “Linc said he loved you…” he began to chuckle to himself and then felt his anger brim on the edge of his sanity once more. He sucked in a hissing breath and his laughter turned to a painful growl. He quickly look up to her and took an urgent step forward. “I hit him.”

"Michael!" Sara took him by the arm, trying to steady him. "Of course Lincoln loves me, we're close. We're in laws. I love him too. Why would you hit your brother!?"

“A ha!” Michael sang, drunk on his sudden intake of oxygen. “You love him too! I knew it,” he stepped back from her shaking his head. “This…” he pointed between them with a flick of his finger. “…this is a guilty façade. What happened when I was inside, huh?”

"Michael, what are you talking about?" Sara asked softly, stepping towards him. "You mean what happened other than me missing you every second? Nothing."

“That’s what Linc said!” Michael laughed, turning away from her and stumbling down the drive a little. Lincoln arrived just at that second, skidding his Mustang to a halt and jumping out of it before the engine was even silent. He slammed his door and stalked towards Michael, his boots pounding the path and his key jingling in his hands.

“God dammit, Michael!” he roared. Michael spun on his heels, giving Sara and look as he rolled his eyes and carried on laughing.

Sara stepped between them, crossing her arms. "Would someone care to clue SARA into what the hell is going on?!"

Lincoln gripped his keys between his fingers and pointed one at a giggling Michael. “Your husband…” he stalled, pointing to the red hand prints on his neck. “…I think he’s lost it,” Lincoln snapped.

“He’d still have it if you hadn’t of told him how you really wanted to fuck his wife while he was in prison!” Michael growled at him, stepping his body into Sara’s back and pushing her forward a little as she resisted.

"Michael, stop it!" Sara turned around, pressing her chest to his. "Stop it right now!"

She turned to Lincoln. "Maybe you'd better go."

“No!” Lincoln shook his head defiantly. “Michael, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“How many times?” Michael spat at the both, taking a step back towards the house. “How many times did you sit and think about her, huh Linc? Tell me!” he spat. Lincoln fell silent and he sighed, rolling his head sideways and biting his lip.

"Michael, what are you talking about?" Sara whispered, cupping his face in her hands. She glanced to Lincoln, then looked back to her husband. "Baby, I love you. Just you."

Michael took her hands and moved away from her grasp, letting her hands go. “My big brother cares about me so much…” he began walking backwards. “…He cares so much…” he added, bending down and grabbing a pebble from their garden display. He toyed with it, tossing it in his hands.

“Michael…” Lincoln warned, holding out his hands.

“…He cares so much he was willing to satisfy you while I was in prison,” Michael laughed at her, frowning. “Isn’t that thoughtful!”” He roared, throwing the stone. The glittery sound of glass filled the air after a dull smack as the window on Lincoln’s Mustang shattered into a million tiny pieces.

Lincoln stared in shock, throwing his hands on his head and dropping to his knees with a thud. “Michael!” He screeched. “Not my car! You bastard!”

“How does it feel to have your heart broken, Linc!” Michael spat.

"Michael. . ." Sara trailed off and glanced between the two of them. "You know what? Inside now." She pushed Michael into the house, slamming the front door and turning to Linc. "Oh my God. Lincoln. We'll. . . I'll pay for it."

Lincoln felt sick. He stared in shock at his car, tiny shards of glass still crumbling from the rubber seals. “Why would he…?” he trailed off on a whisper. “It’s not like I acted on my feelings,” he murmured, rubbing his hands over his jaw and slumping back on his heels.

"It's okay, Linc. It's just a window. . ." Sara stepped towards him and knelt down, glancing back towards the front door. "Acted on what feelings?"

Lincoln was dumbstruck, staring a the glittering glass littering the pavement at the bottom of the driveway. “Huh?” He said slowly, feeling his heart cracking. “Oh,” he said quickly, shaking his head and looking at her. “Therapy is confidential, Sara.”

Sara sighed and leaned forward, squeezing his hand gently. "Lincoln . . ." She held his gaze for a moment before standing up. "I need to check on Michael."

Lincoln nodded and scrambled to his feet. He walked to the bottom of the drive slowly, kicking his feet through the shards of blue glass and digging his hands into his pockets. He looked back to the house where Sara was disappearing through the doorway and he kicked his tire angrily.

Sara walked through the house, shutting the door quietly behind her. She sighed and fluttered her eyes shut. "Baby?"

Michael was pacing the front room, head in his hand and his breathing ragged. He had tossed his jacket onto the back of the couch and had ripped his tie from the collar of his shirt. A few buttons were undone and he was shaking. He seemed to ignore Sara’s words for a second, staring at Lincoln kicking at the glass outside.

Sara walked slowly over to Michael, placing her hand gently on his arm. She gave it a light squeeze and turned him to look at her. "Baby, talk to me."

“Okay, what?” Michael snapped, turning to look at her. “What do you want me to say?” His words were harsh and he immediately regretted them when he saw Sara’s face. He titled his head to the side and took a long, calming breath, gripping her hands in his softly. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry.”

Sara leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. She stared at him for a moment before speaking quietly, "Baby, nothing ever happened between me and Linc. Nothing is ever going to happen between us."

“I know,” he sighed, gripping to her wrists. “But it doesn’t stop what I feel when I look at him,” he growled, flicking his eyes outside the window again.

"Michael. . ." Sara said gently, shaking her head and taking another step into him. "He's your brother. He loves you and you love him."

Michael looked away from her and snorted. “Brother…”

Sara cupped Michael's face in her hands and turned him so he was looking at him again. "Yeah, Michael. Your brother who you love more than anything in this world."

Michael shook his head, moving from her grasp and plopping down on the couch. “No, I love you more than anything…” he said firmly, rubbing his face with his hands. He slouched on the couch and sighed again, feeling calmer. “…I can’t even look at him right now.”

"Because Linc had some sort of feelings for me at some point in time?" Sara dropped down onto the couch. "Lincoln and I are close, Michael. We were there for each other when we didn't have anyone else. But baby, the one thing that bonds us, the thing that keeps us so close. . . is you. And how much we both love you."

Michael rolled his head against the back of the couch and smiled at her. He rested his hands to her knee and smoothed over the material slowly. “I love you so much, Sara.”

Sara leaned over, brushing her lips against his. "I love you more than anything, Michael. I will always love you more than anything."

Michael cupped her face in his hands and offered her a smile. He pulled her face to his again and kissed her slowly, savouring the taste and calming effect of her lips on his. “Always, forever” he whispered, resting his forehead to hers and brushing his thumbs over her cheeks.

Sara smiled softly, kissing him again slowly. "And you're done being mad at Lincoln?"

Michael nodded with a sheepish smile. “I’m not sure I can say sorry for what I did,” he twisted his mouth sideways. “Linc loves his car like I love you,” he pulled on her arm, tugging her onto his lap and wrapping his arms around her tiny frame. “I’ll pay for it.”

"You can't get angry like that," Sara told Michael softly, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck. "Therapy is supposed to fix things!"

Michael’s eyes fluttered closed and butterflies tingled down his spine when Sara kissed him, relaxing all other traces of anger he held. “Therapy just makes us all hate each other,” Michael chuckled.

Sara moved her kisses up and around his jaw line. "I don't hate you, Michael. Nothing could ever make me hate you."

“I kinda love it when we fight…” Michael smiled to himself, rolling his head sideways and holding Sara to him. “…I love making up.”

"Ah, the makeup sex," Sara brushed her lips against his neck and laughed softly. "I knew there was a reason you were always picking dumb fights."

“You got me,” Michael smirked, pulling her body to his and kissing her quickly. It was hot and feverish, full of desperate want and seduction. His lip brushed across her lip and he groaned.

Sara smiled softly, returning the kiss and sucking gently on his bottom lip. "I love you, Scofield. Do you really think anything could ever be better than this?"

Michael shook his head against her mouth, wiggling his eyebrows playfully and pulling her closer to his body. “I love you, Scofield,” he whispered back to her, his voice husky and dark. “Has Linc gone yet?” he smirked, running his hands under the fabric of her shirt.

"I don't know," Sara murmured against his mouth, shrugging her shoulders just slightly. "I don't keep tabs on your brother."

“No, but…” Michael said, kissing the skin on her neck. “…If I move to see…” he pressed his lips to the hollow of her neck, tilting her body backwards. “…I’ll have to stop kissing you. Do you want that?” he whimpered against her skin.

Sara let out a quiet groan and pressed her body further into his. "Mmm, no, baby. Don't stop."


	24. Chapter 24

Sara walked into the house, shutting the door quietly behind her and trying not to wake Michael. It had been an especially hard day at work, and some of the women had asked her out for a drink after. She hadn't planned on actually drinking, she'd just wanted the companionship. But they'd talked her into it. It had just been two small drinks, but she knew Michael wouldn't handle it well.

Lying on the couch, Michael knew it was Sara as soon as she walked in the door at two in the morning. He had been up most of the night, desperately trying to call her and make sure she was okay. She usually called him when something was wrong and she’d be working late so he knew something had happened. He pushed his sleepy body into a sit and spied her figure in the darkness, gently placing her keys by the front door, trying not to wake him. “Where have you been?” he whispered in the darkness, turning his back to her and rubbing his hand over his eyes while he yawned.

"Baby, I thought you'd be in bed. . ." Sara whispered, walking slowly over to him. She leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead. "I went out with a couple of the girls after work, I didn't want to call and wake you."

Michael let his eyes fall closed again. He had been dozing but not sleeping and now she was home, the wash of relief bathed his soul. He let out a soft groan, content to have her lips on his forehead before he tilted his head further back and kissed her lips slowly. He frowned and pulled away from her quickly. “Did you drink?”

Sara bit her bottom lip and moved a fraction further away from him. "Just a little, Michael. It wasn't even that potent." She kissed his head again. "I can handle it."

“Sara, I can smell it on your breath,” he moved away from her, tilting his head out of the way of her kiss. “It must have been potent enough.”

"Michael. . ." Sara trailed off, crossing her arms. "I can't even feel it. It was just a couple of daiquiris." She reached for his arm. "Let's go to bed."

Michael bit his tongue and looked away from her, shaking his head a little. He leant back into the couch cushions, staring idly to the side of the couch while he sighed loudly. He was disappointed in Sara. After everything, she had been easily swayed back into alcohol by her peers. He didn’t know what Sara wanted to do in bed, apart from sleep, but he really wasn’t in the mood for sleep or sex now.

"Michael, I'm tired," Sara whispered, taking his hand in hers and tugging gently. "Let's go to sleep, okay? Are you mad at me?"

Michael let her pull him to his feet but did not look at her. He let his hand slip from hers as she walked around the couch towards the stairs. “No,” he lied simply, stepping up the steps slowly.

Sara followed him upstairs, moving towards her dresser. She stumbled a little bit as she opened the drawer and shook her head, taking out a t-shirt to sleep in. "It feels good, you know? To go out and drink a little and not feel like I have to get drunk. To just be normal."

Michael pulled his shirt over his head and let it crumple to the chair next to his dresser. He undid his jeans and let them fall to the floor and kicked them to join his shirt in the pile. He kept his back to her most of the time, not saying a word as he padded silently to the bathroom and closed the door quietly behind him.

Sara quickly stepped from her clothes and yanked one of Michael's old t-shirts over her head. Stepping towards the bathroom, she knocked on the door. "Michael?"

Whilst brushing his teeth Michael stopped to briefly call out into the room. “What?” he muttered, his words muffled by the accumulative brush and paste froth in his mouth. “I’m almost done,” he added quickly, spitting into the sink and then cupping a handful of water in his hand to rinse out his mouth.

Sara opened the door to the bathroom and walked over to the sink, grabbing her own toothbrush. She put toothpaste on it, and instead of using her own sink, she pressed her hip into his and playfully nudged him away from his sink. "I love you."

“Sara, what are you doing?” Michael giggled a little, trying to nudge her back towards her own sink. “Are you drunk?” he looked over to her reflection in the mirror, leaning forward on the counter top after turning off his tap.

"No," Sara glanced up at him seriously. "That's just it, Michael. I had a couple drinks, laughed a little, and didn't get drunk. Didn't feel like I had any kind of sorrows to chase away." She spit into the sink. "And now I'm home with you, the man I love."

Michael stood up again, turning himself round and crossing his arms over his chest. His arms melded into his chest and they were hidden in his painted skin while he leant back against the sink and look down to his bare feet. “So what happens when you wake up tomorrow and you need another drink?”

Sara fell silent as she rinsed her toothbrush off. She cleared her throat and glanced up in the mirror at herself, then slid it back into its holder. She turned to him. "I won't."

“You don’t know that,” Michael said firmly. “You’re an addict, Sara. You’ll want another drink when it kicks in.” Michael didn’t look at her as he left the bathroom and went back into the bedroom.

Sara stood completely still for a moment before following him into the bedroom. She felt a lump form in the back of her throat. "I'm a what?"

Michael turned to look at her and he could almost hear the hurt in her voice. “I’m sorry, Sara…” he said slowly, taking a step towards her after realising what he had said. “I didn’t mean…”

"You know. . ." Sara stepped away from him. "I know that. . ." She took a deep breath. "You've spent so long telling me that that's who I used to be, Michael, and it wasn't who I am anymore. That the word addict isn't something you think when you look at me. That it isn't how I should define myself either. But you never really meant it, did you?"

“Of course I meant it,” Michael objected, stepping towards her again and reaching out to her with his hand. “I’m just tired, that’s all. I don’t know what I’m saying.” He shook his head and dropped his gaze to his feet again. “I sat up all night, waiting for you to come home. I thought…” he trailed off, clenching his jaw a little. “…How would you feel if I wouldn’t answer my cell phone and I came home seven hours too late?”

Sara stepped away from him again. "I didn't mean to worry you, Michael, I didn't. I just had to work late, then wanted to go out and unwind. I don't have any friends, Michael. And I really thought you'd be in bed." She took a deep breath. "I've just felt so happy lately, Michael. With you, with us. I haven't even felt the urge to use, not since we got married. I just thought. . . I really wanted to be normal."

Michael stopped his advance on her and sighed again. “When we got married, I promised I would look after you,” he said softly, looking away from her. He shuffled his feet on the floor and rested a hand to his hip. “How am I suppose to do that if you don’t even call to tell me where you are?” He halted for a second and then interrupted her before she could speak. “You knew you’d drink,” he accused her, looking up. “You knew I’d stop you. That’s why you never answered my calls.”

"I didn't need you to remind me of how much of an addict I am!" Sara raised her voice. "Of how I'm poor little Sara who needs protected before she falls off the cliff again." She laughed bitterly. "Maybe I should do us all a favor and go pay a visit to the liquor cabinet right now. Give you someone to save all over again."

Michael snorted a laugh through his nose and licked his lips through a wicked smile. “I obviously did a fucked up job of saving you in the first place.”

"Because I had a drink tonight?" Sara shook her head and laughed bitterly. "God, Michael, I can't even. . ." She grabbed her jeans off the floor and yanked them on, then grabbed one of Michael's hoodies, pulling it roughly over her head. "I can't do this right now. I can't deal with you having no faith in me."

“I have faith, Sara,” Michael laughed. “It’s just the wrong kind right now.” He watched her dress hastily. “Where are you going?” he sighed weakly, stepping between her and the door. “Come on…” he pleaded with a titled head. “I said sorry. I’m sorry. Stay with me.”

"Not to drink if that's what you're worried about," Sara snapped. The lump in the back of her throat finally won and a tear slipped down her cheek. "Or to steal drugs from the hospital."

“Hey…” Michael stepped towards her. “…I didn’t mean…Sara…” was all he could offer as he was the glint of a tear in the dim lighting.

"Sure, you didn't Michael. . ." Pushing past him, Sara hurried down the stairs, slamming the front door shut behind her.

  
Lincoln had been in bed for a little under two hours when he was awoken by the soft sound of knocking against the wooden front door to his house. He had heard the very same knocking too many times before to know he could leave it. He sighed, slipping out of the warmth of his sheets in just his plain pyjama pants and he padded softly down the hall. He lifted his heavy hand and scratched the back of his head as he found the last step of the stairs with his bare feet and reached for the door, saying her name before he even had it open. “Sara.”

Sara wiped a runaway tear off her cheek as Lincoln opened the door and stared lazily out her. Sniffing, she looked down to the ground. "Hi, my name is Sara, and I'm addict."

Lincoln let his hand slid down the door half way and he tilted his head at her. She was primarily dressed I Michael’s clothes that hung off of her tiny frame as she clutched to the too long sleeves of his hoodie and used them to hide her hands. Lincoln felt the cold invade his skin and he shivered a little, stepping aside and waving her in. “What did you do?”

Sara nervously played with the sleeves of her shirt and sighed as she walked into the house. "I had a couple drinks with some girls from work. . ." She trailed off and looked up at him. "I'm not drunk."

Lincoln pushed the door closed behind him and turned to face her, shrugging his shoulders to warm up. “I’m not judging. We’ve all slipped,” he said slowly, padding past her into his kitchen. “Coffee?”

"Coffee sounds good," Sara murmured, following him into the kitchen. She took a seat on the stool at the counter and sighed again. "But Linc, I don't feel like I slipped. I feel fine."

Lincoln took another mug from his draining board and gave it a wipe with his towel. He raised his eyebrows and watching his hands as he prepared the coffee pot. “We all say that…” he muttered.

Sara pressed her hand to her head and sighed. She wasn't sure what she'd been thinking anymore. She licked her lips. "Michael wants to know what happens when I wake up in the morning and need a drink."

Lincoln stirred the coffee clockwise, lifting the spoon and letting the coffee drop back into the mug from the edge of the ceramic. He spun around a little, tossing the spoon into the sink where it landed with a metallic clatter, before taking the coffees and taking up a seat next to Sara on the counter. “Here,” he said, sliding the steaming mug towards her and setting his own in front of him. “You told him you wouldn’t need a drink in the morning, didn’t you?”

Sara pressed her hands to the outside of the mug, attempting to warm them and herself up. "Of course that's what I told him," she murmured, staring down at the dark liquid. "And he said there's no way I could know that. He called me an addict."

Lincoln licked his lips and looked away from her, staring into the swirling blackness of his coffee for a second before he turned on his stool, gripping to the sides with his bare toes, and looked at her profile. “Imagine if you will, that you never married Michael. You married me,” he said slyly, quirking his eyebrow a little at her and seeing a small smile crawl across her lips. “Now…” he began, pressing his hand to his bare chest. “…I am addicted to…sniffing your panties,” he pulled out of the air. “And, after a long recovery and sobriety period, I sniff one pair of your lovely lace panties. And you catch me,” Lincoln said with a wider grin. “You know I can’t stop myself from sniffing another pair, and eventually I will be dependant on sniffing your panties. Again.” He looked at her, frowning to himself. His metaphor had gone a little awry. “Do you see what I am saying?”

Sara brought her coffee up to her lips and took a slow sip. "Linc, did you sniff my panties when I lived here."

“No,” he said quickly. “Maybe…” he trailed of with a grin. “Once. But that’s not the point. The point is, Michael is scared you will fall back into drink if you think you can handle one, tiny little one and then think you can handle more.”

"I get that, I guess," Sara shrugged. "I do. He worries about me constantly, that's just Michael. But I need to make my own decisions, Linc. And I don't need anymore alcohol. He's never called me an addict before."

“That hurts the most, doesn’t it?” Lincoln reached out and rubbed his hand up and down her back, speaking softly. “You can say it to yourself and believe it, but the minute someone else says it…” he trailed off again, making a noise through his lips as he blew out a breath of air.

"It hurts the most that he said it though," Sara murmured, clearing her throat. "I mean, we've talked about how I'm an addict, you and me. But just. . . him. I don't why I'm so sensitive."

“Because, my dear doctor, you love him,” Lincoln said with a quirk of his eyebrows. He lifted his coffee to his lips and took a sip. He wouldn’t get to bed tonight anyway, so why not indulge in some bitter sweetness. “You love him so the truth hurts a thousand times as much.”

Sara took another, longer drink. "Maybe I overreacted a little bit by leaving? But I think he just think I drank for the wrong reasons? And why can't I ever just have a drink, Linc?"

“No one is saying you can’t,” he sat back on his stool, stretching his arms above his head and pulling his shoulder blades together. He lifted his coffee again and looked at the half finished contents. “They have lots of kinds of water nowadays,” he smirked, drinking his coffee through his smile.

Sara rolled her eyes and leaned over, laying her head on Lincoln's shoulder. She sighed and shook her head. "I don't want to go home and talk to Michael."

“Then don’t,” Lincoln shrugged, turning his head and kissing the top of her head. “Your room is still there you know,” he motioned up the stairs with his empty mug. “Or mine is the first door on the right.”

Sara laughed quietly, wrapping her arm around his waist and pressing her face further into his chest. "I suppose we could have sex."

Lincoln was just about to answer when the door knocked. It was still a soft tapping but it was more masculine. More Michael. Lincoln groaned playfully and slid from next to her on the stool. “That will be your husband,” he said, squeezing her shoulders a little as he walked past her. “So you’ll have to pretend a little longer,” he winked as he padded out of the kitchen to wards the door. He opened it wide and pointed into the kitchen without a word when Michael stepped into the house and caught Sara’s gaze.

Sara bit her lip as she caught Michael's gaze, and glanced back down at her coffee. Drumming her fingers on the counter. "Hi."

Michael looked back to Lincoln and gave him a pleading glance. He didn’t have to say anything before his brother cleared his throat and excused himself, disappearing back to bed. “You kids let yourselves out,” he called as he bounced up the stairs.

Michael took a few steps towards Sara, his head lowered and his fingers entwined awkwardly together. “I’m sorry I called you an addict,” he said slowly, his voice low but childlike.

Sara shrugged and kept her gaze down. "I am an addict, Michael."

“But I didn’t have to throw it in your face,” Michael whispered, taking another step towards her and inspecting his fingers.

Sara finally glanced up at him. "You don't think I drank because of you, do I?"

Michael swivelled his head on his neck and let out a sigh. Was he really that see through? “Did you?” he asked softly.

"No. . ." Sara trailed off, reaching out and taking his hand. She pulled him closer to her. "Why would you think that?"

Michael moved towards her, leaning against Lincoln’s kitchen counter so closer to her their bodies were pressed together. “I’ve been an ass lately,” he admitted, his mouth twitching sideways as he looked at his feet again. “But it’s my fault, not yours, so if you did, and you don’t want to tell me? Just please don’t do it again, okay?”

"Michael. . ." Sara brushed her hands over his cheek and turned his face so he would look at her. "I didn't drink because of you. And you're not an ass. What's wrong, baby?"

Michael shrugged and gave her a small smile. “It’s nothing,” he said quickly, taking her hand from his cheek and kissing her knuckles. “I’m okay.”

Sara arched an eyebrow and cupped his face in her hands. "Michael? Talk to me, baby."

Michael shook his head slowly and moved around the stool, spinning Sara’s body on the stool and pressing himself in between her legs. He cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers softly, barely touching them but leaving just enough moisture to leave her heavy lidded and weakened.

Sara moved her hands to his waist, pulling his body closer to hers. She bit her bottom lip, fluttering her eyes shut and the feel of him against her. "I hate fighting with you."

“I hate fighting with you,” Michael repeated her words, recapturing her lips with his and running his tongue along her bottom lips. “Lets...never fight again…” he breathed, between nips and kisses.

"Never, ever. . ." Sara mumbled against his lips, moving her hands around to his back, then lower, squeezing the cheeks of his butt and pulling him closer to her. "Mmmm. But the prospect of making up is so good."

Michael let a smile play across his lips ad he had to break the kiss to laugh. “I can drive really fast,” he arched his brow at her, digging into his pockets and hanging the keys to their truck between his fingers. “Really fast.”

Sara took the keys from his hand and tossed them down on the counter. Pressing her hand to the back of his neck, she brought him down for another slow, open-mouthed kiss. "Or we take the guest room."

Michael smirked against her mouth, teasing her tongue with his but not letting their mouths touch. He pulled away from her but their noses were practically still pressed together and he flicked his eyes open to look at her with a sultry scowl. “In my brother’s house? With him in the next room? You’re crazy,” he whispered against her lips, kissing her again.

"I'm crazy, hmm?" Sara murmured, wrapping her arms all the way around her neck and locking her knees at his sides, drawing him closer. "Then why are you still kissing me?"

Michael let out a groan and his skin prickled to life. He dropped his hands to her thighs and rubbed his hands up and down the top of her legs slowly. “Because I love you,” he kissed her again slowly. “And your idea is suddenly very…very…” he looked down between them and pulled Sara’s body to the edge of the stool, right against his crotch. “…very arousing.”

"Mmm. . ." Sara moaned, moving her kisses down to his neck. She sucked gently at the sensitive skin. "I love you. . . aroused."

“Okay this won’t do…” Michael said suddenly, pulling away from her with a frown and shaking his head. He shot a glance behind him and chuckled. “…We have to buy Linc a kitchen table,” he quirked an eyebrow at her and bit his bottom lip playfully.

"Bedroom," Sara snipped at his bottom lip playfully, cupping him in his jeans. "Right now."

Michael grinned and pulled her fro the stool, kicking off his shoes ad pulling her from the kitchen, muffling her laughter with his lips each time they were too loud. Michael pressed his finger to his lips and gave her a wink as he backed up the stairs, reaching the top and then following her lead back down the hall. He knew one of the rooms was Lincoln’s but he didn’t know which, and he didn’t think his brother would appreciate them having sex right next to him. “Which one?” Michael mouthed silently, pointing to he rooms.

"This one. . ." Sara opened a door and hurried Michael inside, shutting it behind them. "Get naked. Right now."

“So…” Michael whispered idly, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. He fumbled with his jeans, shoving them down his legs quickly and kicking them aside. “…You lived in here?” he arched his bro at the messy room and then pushed his boxers off, stepping towards her fully naked and aroused. “Why are you still in clothes?” he growled.

"Shh. . . Linc's a light sleeper. . ." She took in his full figure, smirking a little before dropping to her knees in front of him. Before he could say anything, she took him in her mouth, letting out a low groan.

Michael’s eyes went wide and his knees threatened to disappear from under him. He stroked his long fingers through Sara’s hair quickly, gripping lightly on the red locks when she was doing too much to him for him to handle quietly. Michael bit down on his lip, letting his head fall back, but he had to look at her once more. “God…Sara…” he whispered, trying to control his whimpering as he gently rocked his hips forward into her mouth.

Sara moved her hands to his thighs, brushing the underside of his ass with his fingertips. She moaned again and wrapped her hand around him, thrusting him quicker into her mouth and running her tongue over his sensitive tip.

“Sara…” Michael protested weakly. “…Sara…stop…please…” Michael breathed, feeling the burning in his gut when his release began to build up.

Sara slowly released him from her mouth, pressing a kiss to the inside of his thighs. She ran her tongue over his tip one more time. "What, baby?"

Michael let out a deep laugh and rolled his head forward, looking down at her with a wicked grin while his damp erection brushed her soft cheeks. “A little eager for me to come, aren’t we?” he arched his brow at her, releasing the grip on her hair a little and smoothing his hand over the shape of her head.

Sara grinned and placed a soft kiss to his member before standing back up. "You just taste good, baby. I can't help myself."

Michael smirked and stepped closer to her, kissing her mouth slowly with an open mouthed kiss and tasting himself on her tongue. “Too…many…clothes…” he whimpered, sliding his kisses to her jaw and then down her next as he unzipped his hoodie she was wearing. “And we have a problem with Linc being a light sleeper.”

Sara undid the button of her pants, and slowly slid them over her waist, pressing herself into Michael. "Just try not to scream, baby. I'll try not to rock your world too hard."

“You always rock my world,” Michael smirked, pushing the hoodie to the floor to join her jeans and tugging his t-shirt up over her head. He inhaled hard when her breasts fell into view. “But I was talking about you screaming, not me.”

Sara pressed her lips to his again, leading them over to the bed. "Hmm. I guess you'll just have to find a way to keep me quiet then, hmm?"

Michael pulled her body against his and turned them around in the room, stopping when his knees hit the edge of the bed and he threatened to fall. “You want to be on top, baby?” he smirked, kissing her again, his voice low and husky.

"You know I love it on top. . ." Sara growled, pushing him down on the bed. She crawled up over him, straddling his waist, and leaning in for a kiss.

Michael hit the bed with a low groan and watched excitedly as she crawled up over his body. He met her mouth in another fast-paced duel of tongues and sighed contently, arching his neck up to meet her lips as she tired to pull away. “No screaming.”

"Screaming? Me?" Sara smirked, pressing a kiss to his lips. She sucked on his bottom lip. "Never."

“Oh,” Michael breathed quietly, nibbling on her bottom lips and finding her hips. “Must be the other Sara Scofield I’m sleeping with.”

Sara rubbed herself over him, letting out a low groan. "Say my name again."

Michael smirked and let out a gasp. He leant up, holding the back of Sara’s head firmly to his ear, his breath hot against her skin while he whispered. “Sara Scofield.”

"Michael. . ." Sara groaned, leaning over him. She bit her bottom lip. "Let's just do it."

Michael shook his head and licked his lips. “You do me,” he rasped huskily. “If you think you can make me scream,” he teased, rocking his hips forward against her slick opening.

"Oh, I can. . ." Sara pushed him further into the bed, spreading her legs open. She took him in her hand, sliding him into her. "Oooh, baby."

“Sara…” Michael hissed, slamming his head into the unused sheets and squeezing his eyes shut. He clamped his jaw together and swallowed hard, digging his blunt fingertips into her hips and pulling her against his member roughly. “Oh baby. Ride me hard.”

"Oh, God, Michael. . ." Sara ground her hips into his. She bit on her bottom lip, groaning. "Do you like it hard?"

Michael nodded incoherently and moved his hips to match her rhythm. Their bodies slapped together and he let out a guttural growl. “Oh baby you know I do,” he panted.

"Shh. . ." Sara leaned down and pressed her lips to his. She moved against him harder. "Too. . . oh. . . loud."

Michael smirked up at her and slid his hands up her back, gripping at her shoulders and rolling them over. Sara let out a squeak and he pressed his lips to hers quickly. “Shh…” he scolded lightly, changing his angle of penetration a little so her back arched off the bed. “…Too loud, baby.”

Sara hiked her leg up, giving him more access to move in and out of her with ease. "Oh, yeah. . .oh, yeah. . . just like that."

“You like it there?” Michael growled against her face, watching it change with passion. He gripped his hand behind her knee and lifted her leg even more, pressing it against her body as he pounded into her harder. “How about that?”

"That feels so. . ." Sara let out a groan and squeezed her eyes shut. She pressed her hands into his neck. "I'm going to come. Right now."

“Right…now…” Michael repeated in a whisper, thrusting into her a little slow as his own orgasm took him. “Oh…fuck, Sara,” he groaned, leaning forward, carrying on his slow, weak hip jerks while he kissed her and run his tongue over her bottom lip. “Mmm…” he hummed contently with a smile, sucking on the slightly swollen lips coyly.

Sara wrapped her arms around him tighter, pulling him down against her chest. "Oh, wow. Let's try this more often."

“It’s the fear of getting caught you know,” Michael smirked, gliding his hand across her sweaty brow and moving some sticky strand of hair from her skin. “Heightens the senses,” he panted with a grin.

Sara brushed her lips across his and giggled. "You realize that Lincoln probably heard everything we did."

Michael leant sideways and crooked his neck at the door. “Nope…I don’t hear him snoring anymore,” he smirked. “I remember Linc snored.”

Sara giggled again and bit gently onto his shoulder. She sighed in content and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry."

“What are you sorry for?” Michael slid off her body and propped himself up beside her. “I was the asshole. I’m sorry,” he purred, nuzzling his face into her neck and kissing the soft skin behind her ear.

Sara moaned softly and brushed her fingers over his cheek. "I should have answered, I shouldn't have drank." She fluttered her eyes shut. "Are we sleeping here?"

Michael inhaled hard and kissed her skin again. He let his hand slide over her stomach and tickle at her ribs. “I didn’t lock the house,” he admitted slowly. “Maybe we should spare Lincoln too,” he grinned, planting an open mouthed kiss to her salty skin.

"But I love how you feeling touching me. . ." Sara groaned. "Let's go home and have some foreplay."

“I’m game for that,” Michael growled, kissing her again and rolling off the bed to find his boxers and pants. He scooped up his t-shirt and tossed it to Sara lying naked on the bed and sent her jeans sailing after it. “Should we leave a note? Strip the bed sheets?” Michael giggled, pulling his own shirt over his head after he was done fastening his jeans.

Sara quickly tugged on her clothes, then glanced around the room. "Michael, I can't find my panties. . ." She dug around again for a moment, then located them. "Here, put these in your pocket."

Michael caught the flying lace in between his hands and flashed Sara a grin before he held them to his face and inhaled hard. His eyes fluttered closed and he let out a sigh of content, smirking at her. “Sara…I’d keep your panties anywhere you wanted me to,” he chuckled, tucking them into the pocket of his jeans.

Sara smirked and walked over to him, pressing her lips to his in a slow kiss. She lingered on his bottom lip, resting her forehead against his. "Going into the office tomorrow?"

“Except there,” he cut in quickly, patting the panties bulging in his pocket. “And no, I’m not. You got me all day,” he grinned and arched his eyebrow at her. He pressed his hand to the small of her back and tugged her body to his again, kissing her roughly as their bodies collided.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, opening his mouth to the kiss and groaning. "Michael, I love you so much."

Michael smiled at her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I love you too, Sara.”

Sara glanced to the bed. "Should we put clean sheets on?"

Michael arched his brow and shrugged. “He’ll probably never know we were here if we do. But what’s the likelihood he comes into your room anymore?”

"You're right. . ." Sara pulled him in for another kiss. "Let's go home and. . . take a shower?"

Michael let a low growl escape his throat and reached behind him to open the door, pulling her with his as they kissed. Michael tiptoed out onto the landing, shooting a glance at Lincoln’s closed bedroom door as he headed to the top of the stairs. He scrunched his face up when he stood on a creaky floor board and then down the rest of the stairs, freezing in his tracks when he went to retrieve his shoes from the kitchen. “Lincoln.”

“Don’t mind me,” Lincoln said with a shrug, sipping at his coffee. “I just live here,” he glared at Sara who appeared behind Michael.

Sara blushed and wrapped her arms around Michael's, pressing her face into his back. "We made up."

Lincoln gulped a mouthful of coffee down painfully and arched his eyebrow at her. "So I heard," he smirked.

Sara giggled a little and tightened her grip around Michael. "I told you to be quieter."

“Me?” he objected, turning to face her with a grin.

“Both of you!” Lincoln announced, catching their attentions again. He cleared his throat and looked at Sara. “Oh...Oh...Right there,” he arched his brow and shook his head, rolling his eyes.

Sara released her grip on Michael and scowled at Lincoln, shrugging a little. "Jealous."

Lincoln snorted a laugh through his nose and tosses Michael his keys. “Get her home and make sure she can’t walk tomorrow,” he chuckled, winking at Sara.

Sara smirked then looked to Michael, crossing her arms in front of her. "Are you going to let me sexualize him like that?"

Michael looked at her with a lopsided grin. “What? You don’t to go home and have countless hours of sex?” He looked back to Lincoln and shrugged, taking a step towards his brother and kicking his shoes out from underneath the stool he was sitting on. “We could stay here,” he smirked.

"No," Sara answered for Linc, shaking her head. "You promised me a shower." She cupped Michael's face in her hands and leaned in, pressing her lips to his for a slow kiss.

Michael almost drifted after her as she headed towards the door, holding his face to hers and smiling against his lips. Michael pulled his keys out from his pocket, dangling them over his fingers as he waved goodbye to Linc over his shoulder. When they reached the door, Sara reached behind to open it but Michael pressed his body into her and it slammed closed again while they giggled. “Go already!” Lincoln shouted from the kitchen, sighing heavily and staring into his empty coffee cup. “I need more coffee.”

"We might. . ." Sara murmured, groaning against his mouth as the door slammed shut behind them. "We might have to pull over to the side of the road.. ."

Michael arched his brow at her and looked shocked. “And desecrate my truck?” he whined for a second before breaking into a wry smile. “Absolutely.”

Sara giggled and pulled him in for another kiss, pressing him against the door of the car. "Just drive fast, baby."

Michael slid out from between their bodies and ran around the side of the truck, jumping into the driver’s side. The dawn was just breaking over the horizon as they set off and the roads were deserted. Michael couldn’t keep his eyes off Sara, and he couldn’t resist leaving his hand tucked neatly between her thighs as he drove with a wide grin.

Sara smirked, taking Michael's hand in hers and bringing it up to her lips for a quick kiss. "You're so loud. I'm surprised you didn't wake Linc's whole neighbourhood."

“I’m loud..?” Michael repeated her words with a smirk. “So Sara Scofield doesn’t scream? Or beg for more?” he whispered, letting his gaze drop down her body to where his hand had pushed further up the apex of her thighs. “You scream. And beg. It’s so hot.”

Sara smirked and undid her seatbelt, leaning over towards him. She pressed a hand against his thigh, and brushed her lips across his neck, giggling against his skin. "It's all because you're so good."

“Put your belt back on,” Michael scolded lightly, giggling in a high-pitched squeak as she kissed him and his skin prickled to live. Every hair on his neck stood on end, begging for her attention. As did other things in other places.

"But it feels so much better over here. . ." Sara murmured, sucking gently at his sensitive skin. "And you taste so good."

“Sara…” Michael warned her gently but the total opposite to his words happened and he lent into her kisses. “…I’ll crash,” he smiled, taking a hand off the wheel to wrap around her body and explore the skin under his t-shirt she was wearing. He turned his head and quickly inhaled her scent as he kissed her. “God, you even smell sexy,” he rasped.

"Do I?" Sara murmured, moving her lips to his ear as he turned back to watch the road. She darted her tongue out. "What do I smell like?"

Michael smiled and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips, tasting her on his mouth. “You smell like sex, baby. You smell like we just had sex and I love it.”

Sara smiled and moved her mouth down his jaw. "Then you'd better hurry and get us home so we can have some more."

Michael slammed his foot to the floor and the truck roared along the deserted streets towards their house. It was next to no time before the truck lurched to a halt in the driveway and they both jumped from the truck and headed for the front door. Michael ripped his shirt over his head before he even got there and balled it in his fists, tossing it back to Sara with a playful grin. He dug in his pockets, pulling out her panties and wiggling his eyebrows at her, beckoning her with a crooked finger as he pushed open the door and backed in slowly.

Sara smirked and pressed into him, giggling against his mouth. She motioned to the panties. "I don't think we'll be needing those."

“I think you’re right,” Michael shrugged, tossing the garment over his shoulder and pulling her to him roughly. “Shower, huh?” he smiled wickedly.

Sara nodded, pressing her body even closer to his. "If you think we can make it upstairs?"

Michael grinned, kissed her slowly and then pulled back form her. He inched his way closer to the stairs with a smirk. “Last one upstairs does all the work,” he quirked his brow, paused for a second to take in her face before bolting up the stairs, pulling himself with the hand rail.

"I can't do all the work in the shower!" Sara squealed, chasing after him. She grabbed onto his jeans pocket and hopped onto his back. "I'd fall down."

Michael stumbled up the last few steps, grabbing onto Sara’s thighs to hold her to his back, and hunching over when he reached the top. Sara slid forward on his shoulders and nearly toppled over his head, much to his amusement. “No, but you can do that thing…” he lifted his head, turning to face her. “…With your hips…” he smirked, rolling his eyes closed. “Yeah, that’s so good.”

Sara smirked and kissed his neck. "Scofield, we gonna keep talking or are you gonna take me to the bathroom and show me some loving?"

Michael jogged down the hall and into their bedroom, totally ignoring the bed as he kicked off his shoes and headed into the en suite bathroom. It was smaller and more intimate than the main bathroom, and as an added bonus, it had a huge mirror opposite the shower cubicle. “Clothes. Off. Now,” Michael growled, letting her slide down his back to the floor. He unbuttoned his jeans and kicked them off, sending his boxers sailing after them and turning the shower on.

Sara pulled both the hoodie and the t-shirt over her head at the same time, and hurriedly pushed her pants down her legs. She ran her hands over Michael's bare back, pressing a kiss to his skin. "Mmm. . ."

Michael relaxed under her kiss and pressed his hands to the wall of the shower. The hot water ran over his body and down his spine but the searing patch where Sara had kissed him remained. Michael reaching behind him and pulled Sara in front of him, taking her hands and flattening them to the wall In front of her. The water pounded down between their bodies but the sound of it hitting the floor quickly disappeared when Michael pressed into her back and began kissing up her shoulder blades, along her neck and paused his face next to her ear. “Mmm indeed,” he growled, sucking on her ear lobe while his hands roamed back along her arms and down her ribcage.

Sara groaned, leaning back and pressing her ass into his groin. She let a content hmm and turned her head so she could kiss him. "Have you always been so easily turned on, baby?"

“No…” Michael breathed, pressing his hand into her stomach and holding her to him harder. “…You do something to me,” he murmured against her skin, sliding her damp hair aside with his free hand to plant open mouthed kisses to her neck.

Sara shut her eyes and let her hips involuntarily grind into his. She let out a low growl at the feel of his hot mouth on her hot skin. "Mmm, it's a very good thing you don't have to go into the office."

Michael nodded against her neck, trailing his tongue along her collarbone and nipping at her skin. “I know,” he muttered, letting one hand slide over her slippery breasts while the other invaded the crevice of her legs. “I don’t think ‘my wife is insatiable’ counts as an excuse,” he whispered, slipping a finger into her and gently massaging her inner muscles with the crooked digit.

"Ohhh, Michael. . ." Sara lifted her leg a little bit, arching her back and moaning. She bit her bottom lip. "Oh, how do you know just how to do it?"

Michael smirked, rasping his hot panting breath into her ear. “I know how to do a lot of things…” him whispered into the spray of hot water as he inserted a second finger and stroking along her inner wall. He pressed his thumb pad to her throbbing clitoris and began applying pressure in time with his stroking. “…You have no idea.”

Sara took in a sharp breath and leaned forward against the shower wall. She let out a whimper. "Michael. . . Michael. . . I can't. . . Oh, God. . ."

When he knew Sara was about to come, Michael pulled his fingers free and she almost sobbed out loud from the retraction of her orgasm. It was evil, Michael knew that, but like he said, he knew how to do a lot of things. He bent his legs a little, taking himself in hand and positioning himself at her entrance before jerking his hips forward and upwards, filling her quickly and without remorse. He stilled, leaning against her back again and holding her body to his with his arm draped across her hardened nipples. “A lot…of things…”

"Michael. . ." Sara whispered his name then trailed off with a hiss. "That's. . . you're. . . I can't even. . ."

Michael began to move in and out of her, removing himself slowly before entering hard and fast again. “You want more?” Michael growled into her ear, watching her face change with passion and her mouth hang open with lust. “Tell me how much. Beg me, Sara.”

Sara leaned back into him, pressing her hand to the back of his neck and pulling him to her for a hungry kiss. "I want you in me, baby. I want you to make me come and I want to feel you come with me."

“Oh yeah…” Michael gasped on each thrust. “Yeah…Sara…fuck…yeah,” he grunted, pulling away from her a little and pressing his hand to the centre of her back. “Lean forward,” he said gruffly, lifting Sara’s hands and pressing them to the steamed tiles. “Yeah, right there…you feel that, baby?” Michael panted, driving into her faster, feeling every ridge inside of her more explicitly than before.

"Oh, yeah. . ." Sara growled, thrusting her hips back to meet his. She bit her bottom lip, trying to hold in her orgasm. "Tell me how I feel, baby."

“So…good…” Michael muttered. It was all he could say and his hip met Sara’s behind with ever thrust. “I want you to come, baby,” he rasped, focusing down at her through the steam. “Come with me, baby.”

"Just. . .a little. . . more. . . ohhh, God. . ." Sara's orgasm hit her and she leaned further over, trying to steady herself. "Oh, baby. I love you, I love you, I love you. . ."

Michael draped himself over Sara’s back and pulled her body back up through the steaming spray of water, thrusting into her weakly as he spent himself into her hot, aching core. Her muscles twitched around his member, pulling him deeper as she came, and Michael let her head fall back against his shoulder. He dipped his head into the shower’s torrent of water and kissed her neck and jaw line slowly, tasting ever inch of her skin like it was the last time he would. “Oh, baby, I love you.”

"I think. . ." Sara let out a content hum and leaned his cheek against his. "I think I'm pretty much spent right now, baby."

Michael giggled a little and reached forward to turn off the shower, leaving them dripping in the cubicle. He shifted a little and slid from her body, wrapping his arm around her and holding it across her chest. He kissed her damp shoulder, smiling against her skin. “I’ll give you…twenty minutes.”

Sara turned in his embrace brushing her lips across his. "If I'm not asleep by then. Mmm, baby, there are no words for how amazing you are."

Michael smiled down at her softly and cupped her face in his hands, pressing his lips to hers. “You’re amazing too, more than I can say,” he whispered and then wiggled an eyebrow at her. “It’s why I show you in kind.”

"I'm cold. . ." Sara pressed her body closer to his. "Get us a towel and some PJs."

When Michael pushed open the shower cubicle, the rush of cold air made him shiver and he reached out for a huge bath towel. He held out his hand for Sara and when she stepped from the shower, wrapped the towel around them both, huddling them together for warmth. “We’re not getting out of bed today, right?” he asked softly, pointing to the daylight outside.

"Mmm, bed all day sounds excellent," Sara pressed a soft kiss in his mouth. "We can order dinner in and eat it in bed."

“I’ll be the one going to the door, right?” Michael screwed up his nose and slipped from the towel, grabbing one of his own and rubbing it over his body to remove the last drops of water. “As long as we don’t order from that Chinese place again,” he frowned and blushed. “The delivery girl can’t stop drooling if I answer the door without a shirt on,” he shifted uncomfortably.

"Can you blame her?" Sara took hold of his towel and pulled it away from him, studying his body without shame. "Just look at you."

Michael pushed his hands in front of his manhood and turned away from her. “Stop it,” he chuckled, catching her gaze in the mirror and shaking his head. “I’m not…” he studied his reflection harder, letting his eyes roam over his body with a frown. “I’m not that…”

Sara walked up behind him, smirking and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Liar. I still can't believe you chose me."

“Why wouldn’t I?” Michael titled his head at her, grabbing his towel back and whipping it from her hands to cover himself again. “Chose you?” he frowned. “Over who?”

Sara shrugged, reaching up and looping her arms around his neck. "Over anyone. You could get any woman you want, Michael."

Michel let out a laugh and held his hand to her arm around his neck. “No. No I couldn’t,” he shook his head. “I wouldn’t want any woman anyway. I want you. And I have you.” He smiled and kissed her sweetly. “What about you? I know other men would kill to take you home.”

"Other men?" Sara scrunched up her nose and leaned in for another kiss. "Men other than you exist?!"

“Oh yeah!” he grinned, blinking hard with disbelief. “What? You’ve not noticed all the heads turning when we walk down the street?”

Sara shook her head. "Baby, I think you're imagining that."

Michael arched his eyebrows at her hands hook his head slowly, a laugh escaping his lips. “I don’t imagine. I notice.”

Sara kissed him again and shrugged. "Well, it doesn't matter, baby. There's nothing out there better than you."

“Mmmm,” Michael hummed against her lips, wrapping one arm around her shoulder, the other around her knee and hauling her into his arms with a bounce. “Don’t you forget it,” he smirked, pressing his lips to hers and carrying her to bed.


	25. Chapter 25

Yet another outburst. Yet another heartache. Michael was sick and tired of himself. He could only imagine what Sara was feeling and totally understood why she had decided that they needed another few days apart. However, a few days had turned into a week, and a week into two, and the longer Sara was away, the more miserable and hopeless Michael felt. He had stopped working at full capacity, his beautiful mind otherwise occupied with thought of paranoia mixed with rage. Was Sara with anyone else? Where was she staying? She had told him not to call her, to leave her alone and she had promised things would be okay if he did. Michael knew she wasn't with Lincoln because he had visited once, told him he looked like shit, and left, which made Michael wish that for once, his wife had sought out the protection of her brother in law. Now he was falling apart with worry for his wife and his marriage.

Sara opened the door and was less than surprised to see Lincoln standing in the plush hallway. "I called you to alert you on the situation. I thought Michael might need you." She didn't want him to enter the room and see the pile of used tissues on the bed. "I don't need company."

"So?" Lincoln shrugged, pushing past her into the room. He looked around, noticed the aftermath of distress and looked her at sternly. "What if I need company?" he mused.

"Then I am sure there are better people to hang out with than me." She moved to the bed, swiping of all the tissues. "I can give you the number of a good hooker. I think you've met her before? She was your first ex-sister in law."

Lincoln sucked in a breath and slammed his hand to his heart. "Ouch, Sara, Ouch. She tried to kill me, you know...so I’ll pass," he smiled forcibly. "You got anything to eat?" he asked, moving to the mini bar.

"You eat it, you buy it!" Sara warned. She flopped down onto the bed and looked to Lincoln pathetically. "Have you talked to. . . anyone. . . lately?"

"If by anyone you mean Michael...then yeah," Lincoln said, pulling open a packet of peanuts.

"Hand me one of those cookies," Sara held out her hand. "Did Michael say anything about. . . anyone?"

Lincoln tossed her a bag of mini cookies before inspecting the mini bar for other goodies. Happy there were no more, he closed it and leant against the table it was resting on. "If by anyone you mean you..." he pointed at her with a peanut gripped between his thumb and forefinger. "...then yeah." Lincoln added, throwing the salted snack into his mouth.

Sara stared at him for a minute. "Lincoln, when I ask you a question I expect you to realize that I'm digging for information. Don't make me beg."

"Well, he didn't hit me this time. And I’m pretty sure he's doing miserable without you," he said, popping another peanut into his mouth. "You should see him, Sara. He hasn't washed for like a week." Lincoln popped the last peanut into his mouth and shook the empty packet. "That's it for ten bucks? God damn." he muttered to himself.

"We're miserable together, Lincoln," Sara shook her head and opened her cookies, popping one in her mouth. "Our marriage just isn't working any more."

"And you're willing to sacrifice every bit of love you have ever held for that man because you are scared of making it work?" Lincoln said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know you, Sara...If you had hugs and puppies all the time, you'd be worse off. Fighting is good. It's healthy." He grinned. "Makes for better make up sex."

"We have good sex," Sara mumbled. "We have great sex. I just. . . I miss how things were. I miss cuddling and. . . I don't know." She sniffled. "We were supposed to leave for Italy the day after tomorrow."

"Oh yeah, about that," Lincoln spoke up suddenly, pointing at her. "Apparently, I am supposed to take you instead because, and I quote, 'You'd have more fun with your brother in law than your husband'." Lincoln looked at her sternly. "See what I mean? Miserable without you."

"He is not miserable," Sara snapped, crossing her arms and leaning against the back of the bed. "He's always throwing stuff in my face about you. And I throw stuff in his face. It's an endless dance." She broke into tears again, "I don't know how to just be happy with him."

Lincoln clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth with a tut and move towards her. He plopped next to her on the bed, making her bounce into his bulk and he wrapped a strong arm around her, holding her to him while she cried. "He's an ass, Sara, you know that. He doubts everything he does, he can't help it," he smiled, rubbing her arm to comfort her. "He doesn't know how to be happy without you."

"But it's not going to get better if I go back," Sara sobbed into his shirt. "We're going to keep fighting. We're going to keep hurting each other." She tried to control her tears, but it was useless. "He knew how to be happy without me once, he can do it again."

Lincoln reached behind her and pulled a tissue from the box she had not so cleverly hidden before he came in. He handed her a tissue. "Want me to talk to him...dig to the root of all this evilness?" Linc quirked an eyebrow and grinned playfully. "Or, are you really ready to give up on this marriage, because that's what you have to ask yourself. Is crying into a box of tissues in a hotel room really what you want, Sara?"

"I like my tissues," Sara murmured, pulling the box in her lap. "He asked me what happened to 'Be the change. . .' He wanted to know when I stopped wanting to make a difference." She shrugged. "And all I can think of is that our marriage is what happened."

"So you think, you got married and stopped being who you once were?" Lincoln asked her with a frown. "Sara, if that's how you feel...your blaming the wrong person for this break up," he pointed to her. "Michael couldn't change you in prison, he sure as hell hasn't now we are out."

"I'm not saying this is Michael's fault. Not at all," Sara shook her head. "I love him, Linc. More than anything. But what if that's not enough?"

Lincoln shrugged and laughed at her. "You're kidding, right?" he beamed but Sara looked less than impressed. "Okay Sara, look...love is hard, and love is scary and sometimes, love bites you in the ass but you know what? Love is always enough," he breathed, giving her knee a gentle squeeze. "So forget for a second that I sound like a Hallmark representative, and call him."

"I'm not calling him," Sara shook her head. She gave Linc a pathetic look. "Those cookies are the only thing I've eaten in three days."

Lincoln blew and audible sigh out of his lips and rolled his eyes. "Well, if you weren't so damn hot, I would of noticed something other then your boobies!" He smiled and Sara punched him in the arm. "Want me to go get you something...chinesey?" He grinned, pulling the same hilarious face he had every time he suggested a takeaway to cheer her up when they lived together.

"Something chinesey sounds like heaven," Sara murmured, nodding slowly. She leaned into him, wrapping him in a hug. "Thanks, Linc."

Lincoln held her to him and kissed the top of her head lovingly. "The usual happy order?" he asked softly.

Sara nodded again. "And don't take long. I'm starving!"

Lincoln laughed and let her go, moving towards the door. "I'll do the three knock thing when I come back..." he said, pulling the door open. "…It's very James Bond," he smiled and disappeared through the frame, pulling the door closed quietly behind him.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Sara flung the door open, smiling broadly. "Did I tell you to not take forever, James? I'm starving, remember?"

"James sends his apologies," Michael said in a smooth, velvety voice. It had been tainted by tears, maybe days of them, but he didn't seem to have noticed. He held out a bag of Chinese boxes for her and offered her a weak, heart fluttering smile. "Hey," he breathed slowly when she looked up at him.

She considered shutting the door in his face for a moment before stepping inside and letting him in. He placed the bag on the small table and looked over at her. She shut the door slowly. "Hey."

Michael didn't know what to say so he just stood and stared at Sara. She looked tired and weak and broken and it was all his fault. "Sara...I..." he began, but the words caught in his throat and he couldn't finish whatever he wanted to say.

Sara drew in a sharp breath when he spoke her name. She didn't have words, she wasn't quite sure what to say. Biting back tears, she took the few steps towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug.

Michael hugged her to him like he might lose her if he let go. He breathed a sigh of relief into her hair, letting his eyes fall closed as he held her in silence. "I love you," he whispered against her ear, his hot breath tickling at the skin.

Sara turned her head, pressing her lips against his neck. "I love you, Michael. You know how much I love you."

"Come to Italy with me...let’s go and get away from everything" he begged for her answer with wide eyes and an expectant tone.

"What is Italy going to fix?" Sara whispered, pulling out of his embrace. "What, we'll go there and make love for a week. Then come back here to what, Michael?"

"Sara, Italy probably won't fix anything, but we'd be fools not to go and try to fix something," Michael rationalised. "I'm not asking for us to make love for a week, because I don't deserve that right now. I'm asking for you to give me another chance to redeem myself. Maybe it's all the sex that is the problem...we keep saying those three little words but what do they really mean any more? We have forgotten what 'I love you' means, Sara."

Sara moved away from him and sat back down on the bed. At least she'd remembered to throw away her tissues this time. "So what do you mean when you tell me you love me, Michael?"

"Sara, when I tell you I love you I mean it. I'm just saying...I think we take the expression for granted. We need to rediscover our marriage," he said, trying to sound strong.

Sara nodded, looking over at him. "And if we discover this won't work?"

Michael shrugged, moving to crouch in front of her on the floor and taking her hands in his. "If we come back, and you still feel the same, I'll leave," he swallowed hard. "I'll leave Chicago and you can move on without having to hate me."

Sara let out a breath of air and felt her eyes mist over when Michael mentioned leaving Chicago. Pressing her forehead against his, she nodded, "Let's do Italy."

  
The brochure had definitely understated the villa Michael had booked. Made of sun-baked stone, it was situated right on the beach with laminate flooring inside and a huge decked area out the back. There were five, maybe six steps over soft prickly grass until bare foot touched the white, glassy sands on the edge of the sea. That was crystal clear blue topaz and gently lapped at the sand day and night with a caressing sound that made the rest of the world melt away. So far, over the two days of their vacation, Michael had spent every evening watching the sunset and the froth of the ocean tenderly dissolve into the shoreline.

Sara walked out onto the deck where Michael was watching the sunset. She leaned against the railing next to him and stared out over the ocean, smiling as the cool breeze caught her red hair, sending it flying around her face. "It's beautiful here."

"I told you," Michael smiled softly at her. "And it's so peaceful out there," Michael motioned to the ocean. "Come on," he whispered, taking her hand in his and stepping from the decking onto the thin patch of grass and leading her onto the sandy beach. He stopped them both a foot or so from the slowly rippling ocean and watched the golden red Sunset illuminate Sara's features. "You hear that?"

Sara listened for a minute, remaining completely still. "I don't hear anything."

"Wrong," Michael breathed, wrapping his hand around her waist and pressing it to the small of her back. "The ocean has it's own music," he held her to his chest, covering her tiny hand with his while it rested above his heart. "Close you eyes, listen harder," he said smoothly.

Sara did as he said, letting her eyes fluttered closed. She tilted her head, a slow grin lighting up her face. "You're pretty amazing, Michael Scofield. You know that, right?"

"Dance with me?" he asked her gently, beginning to sway their bodies in the sand and letting the blazing sunset cast their shadows as one up towards the house.

Sara slowly moved her arms up, resting them on his shoulders. She lay her head against his chest, and let out a content sigh. "You know what I realized while I was in that hotel room?"

“No, what?” Michael said quietly, holding one of his hands in hers and the other behind her back, letting his eyes flutter closed while he held her.

"How much I love being in your arms," Sara whispered. "How much I love having you to sleep next to. I was lonely." She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "I like how you hold me."

Michael smiled at her words, his stomach tingling when she kissed him. It had been the first kind of emotional contact they had relayed with lips for two days. "I miss holding you at night," Michael admitted, stepping from one foot to the other in time with the lapping of the ocean waves against the darkened sands. "I didn't do it nearly enough to appreciate how much I’d miss it when it was gone."

Sara brushed her mouth against his jaw line. She wrapped her arms around him tighter. "I'm glad we came."

"Me too," Michael smiled, tilting his head down to look at her with genuine love. At the risk of being rejected, Michael dipped his head and brushed his lips over Sara's like they had never kissed before. They stopped swaying in the sunset less night, lit up in a silvery glow by the full moon shining gallantly in the sky.

Sara kissed him back, running her tongue gently along his bottom lip. She pulled him closer to her, slowly breaking the kiss. "I love you."

Michael didn't breathe a word in reply, he simply kissed her back, gently parting his lips and inviting her tongue into his mouth. She tasted like honey with a hint of cinnamon and warmed Michael's heart with every stroke of her tongue over his. He let his hands roam her back, gliding over the soft material of her top and pulling her closer to his body.

Sara ran her hands slowly through his short hair, kissing him back before pulling away. "Let's go to bed, Michael."

Michael suddenly panicked and averted his gaze nervously. "Sara...I..." he began, ready to voice his reluctance to love her intimately, but Sara cut him off with a sweet smile and her clear intentions.

Sara smiled at him and hugged him tighter. “I just want you to hold me, Michael.”

"Oh..." Michael breathed, trying not to sound to relieved. "...I could hold you forever," he whispered, taking her hand in his and leading her back up the beach towards the house.

Sara led him slowly up to the bedroom, and opened her closet, looking for something to wear to bed. She gave him a sarcastic smirk, "You look so eager to make love to me."

Michael laughed huskily, slipping into some light pyjamas pants and letting his bare chest intrigue the room. Italy was hot, much warmer then Chicago and shirtless was the only way to sleep in the humid nights. "I am..." he admitted shyly. "...but we are taking it slow," he reminded her. He pulled back the thin white sheet that covered them in the heat and slipped under it.

Sara slid from her clothes, finally deciding on a thin, silky nightie. She got too hot at night to sleep in much more. Crawling into bed, she smiled at him in the darkness. "I think we should move here."

"One day, we will," he promised, sliding across the bed and pressing himself against her back. He wrapped a tattooed arm around her waist and pulled her to him, flattening his palm against hers where they rested next to her face on the pillow. He nudged his leg in between hers and smoothed his bare feet over Sara's legs, smiling as he placed a soft kiss to her bare shoulders. "We'll come and never leave this place."

Sara wiggled back closer to Michael, nudging her butt into him. She closed her eyes and revelled in the feet of his arms around her. "Mmm. I like when you make promises like that."

Maybe it was the jet lag, or maybe it was the euphoric feeling of holding Sara again after nearly two weeks, but Michael was soon overtaken with the concept of sleep and despite his body's repulsion to not being able to enjoy holding Sara, he fell asleep. When he awoke the next day, she was still there, cradled in his arms only she had turned in the night and they were sharing a pillow. Michael peeled an eye open and caught Sara smiling at him. "Good morning," he rasped, stretching his body a little.

"Good morning, sleepy head," Sara murmured, her grin growing wider. It felt more than good to be back in the same bed as him. When he stretched, she took the opportunity to wrap her arm around him, pressing their bodies closer together. "Any good dreams?"

"The whole of last night was a good dream," he grinned, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

Sara shifted her weight, leaning so she was partially on top of him. "Except it wasn't a dream." She brushed her fingers gently over his cheeks. "We're not a dream."

“Not any more,” he breathed, tucking her hair behind her ear when it tumbled forward over her face. Michael pressed his smile to hers and a low groan escaped his throat as Sara kissed him back.

"It looks gorgeous outside," Sara murmured, pulling away from the kiss. "Let's spend the day on the beach. We've hardly put this private little paradise to use."

"You're right," Michael stretched his body again, trying to shake his reluctance to get up. "I paid for this beach, so we'll damn well use it," he kissed her again and then rolled away from her, sitting up on his side of the bed and rubbing his tired eyes again. "Have you ever swam in the ocean?" he asked her quickly before his yawned with another stretch.

"Once. When I was six." Sara stated matter-of-factly. She got out of bed and walked over to her dresser, opening a drawer. "Go get dressed. I will too."

Michael pushed himself to his feet, lightly scratching his chest as he stalked past her to the bathroom. He inspected his half naked form in the mirror, splashing warmed water of his face and on the back of his neck. He towelled his face dry, patting at his skin softly, before picking up his toothbrush and cleaning his teeth. "Hey Sara, what are you going to..." Michael froze as he looked up to find her arranging her cleavage in a very seductive bikini. "Wow..." he breathed.

Sara glanced down at herself, feeling a small blush creep up her cheeks. "Yeah, I. . . I, ah, bought this the day after you gave me the tickets. I wanted to surprise you." The bathing suit really barely covered anything and there was no way she'd wear it in front of anyone but him, ever. She twirled in a circle. "So. . . surprise."

"Well, it puts mine to shame," Michael smiled, copying her twirl in his subtly patterned dark blue swimming shorts. "You look phenomenal..." he whispered, stepping towards her and not being able to resist reaching out to trail a warm hand over her skin.

Sara laughed quietly. "I don't look that good." She leaned in for a slow kiss and smiled at him. "But you're very sweet."

Michael shook his head at her modesty. "To me you do," he smiled and kissed her again. "Come on..." Michael encouraged like a school boy, covering her hand with his and tugging her out of their bedroom towards the beach.

"You know. . ." Sara teased as they strolled out onto the beach. "Really, when I bought this suit I thought it would be an incentive for you to stay inside."

"And you thought I wouldn’t want to see that wet?” Michael grinned wickedly, kicking at the sand with his bare feet.

"Well. . ." Sara took off for the water, calling to him over her shoulder. "That depends on what kind of wet you're talking about!"

Michael took off after her, kicking up sand as he ran after her giggling, bikini clad body clumsily. He caught up to her and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, lifting her from the ground with a grunt and running into the ocean. The water was cool, having not had much of the morning sun to warm it yet and Sara squealed in his arms. Michael shifted her position in his arms and tucked an arm under her legs while the other pressed to her back. "One..." he counted with a wicked smile, bobbing in the water.

"You would not throw me into this ocean!" Sara told him, flailing her arms. "Michael Scofield! I swear to God. . ."

"Two..." he lifted her higher and Sara screamed at him again.

"Michael! Stop it!" She let out a shriek of giggles. "As the mother of your future children, I'm warning you."

“Three!” Michael grunted, lifting Sara clean out of the water and launching her into the ocean.

Sara bopped up out of the water, spluttering. "I am going to kick your ass."

Michael crouched down in the low tide so the water covered his shoulders and tiptoed towards her. "As the father of your future children, I'm warning you," he mused, waving his hands through the water at his side and grinning at her.

"Maybe not now," Sara told him, smirking playfully. She moved around in the water. "I might have to find another guy who doesn't throw me in the water to have babies with."

"Fine," Michael huffed playfully and took a deep breath, ducking under the water to skim his lips over her stomach with an underwater smirk.

Sara let another squeal and moved away from him in the water. When he came up for air, she splashed him. "I know someone who isn't getting any tonight."

Michael let out a hearty laugh. "In that case..." he took another breath, dived under the water and dipped his head between her legs. He gripped her thighs to his shoulders and stood up with Sara wiggling for balance above him. Michael threatened to fall, shaking her body unsteadily with a smirk.

"Ohhh, come on!" Sara giggled, fighting to stay balanced. "If you love me, you'll let me down easy!"

"You're right..." Michael began to kneel again but just as Sara's behind touched the water he shot back up and launched her from his body, spinning quickly to catch the horror on her face when she emerged from the ocean.

Sara emerged sputtering once again. She gave Michael a look before moving back towards the shore and grabbing her beach towel. "Ha!"

Michael’s laughter faded when she stepped from the water and grabbed her towel. "Wait a minute..." he said slowly, wading through the waist-high water after her. "...I’m not done with you yet!" he jeered, letting the water run down his body as he stalked towards her up the beach.

"I've been waiting all week to hear you say those words!" Sara called, turning back and giving him a huge smile. She stopped half way up the beach, and held out her arms, inviting him into her towel.

With a mischievous grin, Michael stepped into her towel and pressed his body to hers. They instantly stuck together and water still dribbled from Michael’s wet hair down his neck and back. He wasted no time in reconnecting their lips, seizing her lips for a feverish kiss that had Sara melting into his body.

Sara wrapped her arms around Michael, pressing her body into his. The heat of his stomach on hers, and the towel in her back were enough to warm her up after their cool dip in the ocean. She pulled away just slightly, smiling up at him almost shyly. "I'm not done with you yet either." She hoped the words were enough for him to catch her hidden meaning.

"You mean..." Michael asked her, suddenly aware that when they left this paradise, things would either change or they would go back to how they were. He smiled to himself, broad and serene as he cupped her face in his hands and pulled her face to him once again. The kiss was harsh but softly done so that Michael could feel Sara smiling beneath his lips. "Thank you," he breathed, kissing her again. "I mean it Sara, you will not be disappointed any more," he promised, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand.

"I know you mean it," Sara told him, nodding slowly. She knew they had a lot to talk about, and a lot to work on, but nothing was worth losing him. She turned her head, pressing her lips to his knuckles. "I love you."

Michael's lips curved up into a smile and he sighed a breath. The feel of her lips on his skin, any part of him, was enough to send his heart into a flurry and it began to pump his blood faster around his ocean cooled body. "Sara..." Michael swallowed, dropping his gaze to the footprints in the sand between them. "...I really love you. I've never ever felt the way I feel about you with anyone in my entire life, and I hope I never need to again..." he lifted his gaze to hers again and took another shaky breath. "...what would you say if...Sara, I..." Michael knew what he wanted to ask her, he had been dying to show her how much he loved her all the time they were in Italy but he didn't want it to just happen. He needed to know Sara wanted it as much as he did.

Sara smiled, brushing her lips gently against his jaw. She moved even closer to him and tugged on his swimming trunks, hooking two fingers into the waistband. She stroked at the sensitive skin for a second, looking up at him with an arched eyebrow. "What would I say if you what, Michael?"

Michael's jaw clenched tightly and his eyes rolled closed when she fingered his skin teasingly. He licked his lips and tried to find his words again. "If I said...if I told you, all I’ve wanted to do since we got here, is make love to you again. Properly. The way you deserve."

"The way I deserve?" Sara repeated slowly, pulling away from him and dropping the towel to the sand below them. She reached behind her back and began to tug at the strings of her bikini top. "I'd say. . . I didn't put on this particular suit by accident this morning. I'm not a tease, Scofield."

Michael watched her hands skilfully tug at the string playfully and watched the wet material peel from her skin. It crashed into the sand silently, but Michael didn't see it. Sara's vibrant breasts jumped into view, illuminated by the glow of the Italian sun that shone over Michael's back and spilled over her milky skin. He gulped for a second, forcing himself to look back up at her. "Sara, I...I don't want to make you do anything you might not want to," he babbled, painfully erect and begging for her attention within his shorts.

"Michael," Sara said firmly, walking over to him and cupping him through his thin shorts. She smiled and placed a kiss on his lips. "You're my husband, in case you forgot. And right now there's nothing more I want than to make love to my husband."

"Being your husband doesn't give me the right to want you whenever I feel horny," he laughed a little and trailed his hands over her bare body. His fingertips skimmed over her skin, lightly brushing over the side of her breasts and causing her already erect nipples to tense and peak out more. "I just want..." he began but he was cut off with Sara's lips on his as she devoured the salty tasting skin hungrily and making him moan low in his throat.

Sara trailed her hands over his stomach and tugged at his shorts, pushing them down. She placed a kiss to his neck, and then his chest, and then his stomach. "I told you, Michael, we're putting this beach to good use." Dropping to her knees in the sand, she feathered a kiss on the inside of his thigh.

Michael's head fell back and he laughed up at the sky. "I'll guess that means your answer would be yes," he grinned, running his hands through her wet hair and looking down at her.

Sara grinned up at him, placing a kiss on his other thigh before gently running her tongue over the length of him. "I just want to love you, baby."

Michael's breath left his lungs quickly and his legs became weak. "Oh, I’m loved," he breathed, watching Sara taste his manhood with a smirk.

Sara ran her hand around the back his thighs, pulling him closer to her as she took him in her mouth. She let out a quiet moan and fluttered her eyes shut.

Sara's hair gently tickled over Michael's thighs and he reached out a hand to brush it away from her face. He wanted to see her lips around his erection, not just feel it. He gulped hard and his hips thrust forward a little, brushing his tip over the back of her throat making him groan each time. Michael whispered her name as he stroked her hair, letting his eyes close again when Sara hummed with pleasure.

Sara added her hand to the mix, stroking him gently as she continued to move him in and out of her mouth. She let out another moan around him and slowed her movements, flicking her tongue out over his tip.

Michael's gut burned and his groin became restricted. The pressure building with him was a mixture of pain and pleasure; a combination he thought he could withstand until Sara twisted her wrist in the particular way she did and with a guttural scream, he came into the back of her mouth. "Ahh...Sara...I'm sorry..." he panted, immediate guilt washing over him as his pulsating erection still shook from his orgasm in her hand.

"It's okay," Sara stood up and ran her tongue along her bottom lip. She pressed a kiss to his neck. "I love you."

Michael looked down at her and smiled. "I love you more, but you could have just swallowed our unborn child" he mused with a wink, taking her lips in his and kissing her deeply. He could taste himself in her mouth and without breaking the kiss, he lowered them to the sand and began kissing his way down Sara's body. He trailed his hands down her neck and along her collarbone, following eagerly with his tongue and lips. His hands skimmed down her ribcage and he tasted her skin as he went, leaving a damp trail of feverish kisses between her breasts where he paused to nibble at her skin. Before she had time to moan his name, Michael captured one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked on it tenderly, mirroring his tongue with his thumb over her other rosy peak.

"Michael. . ." Sara tossed her head back and let out a moan, arching her back underneath him. She ran her hands through his hair as his tongue worked on her body. "You. . . you still want a baby?"

Michael left her nipple damp and aching when he lifted his head to look at her again. "Of course, you don't?" He asked confused.

Sara nodded her head, brushing her hands through Michael's hair. "I want a baby, Michael, I just didn't think you still would."

"Well, I do," he breathed, dipping his head to plant more kisses to her already scorching skin. He left his words, showing her just how much with his actions. He slid down her body more, planting agonising pecks to her heaving stomach and across her hipbone. He hooked his fingers into her still wet bikini bottoms, tugging the fabric from her flesh with a smirk. Sara's breath caught in her throat when Michael nuzzled his face into her soft reddy curls, teasing the aching flesh under them with a puff of air before slipping his lips across the inside of her thigh.

"God, Michael," Sara writhed underneath him, holding onto the towel. She bit her bottom lip. "I want you to touch me."

Michael smirked. "Here?" He teased, kissing the inside of her other thigh. "Here?" He kissed the space between her belly button and her mound, nipping at the skin gently. "Here?" He murmured, kissing further down before using his thumbs to tease open her labia and take in the glory of her throbbing arousal. He smiled and blew cold air over the flesh. "Or here..." he growled, closing his lips over it and sucking gently.

"Right. There," Sara moaned, closing her eyes. She thrust her hips up, reveling in how good it felt to have him touch her once again. "Oh, yeah."

Michael loved how she writhed beneath him, helpless to his touch. He felt a tweak of life in his own flaccid arousal and it began to harden again. Michael used his tongue to slowly tease her juices from her, letting it slip into her core briefly before it retreated and left her begging for more in the sand. "Where else, Sara?" he whispered, letting a single digit slip in between her folds as he grazed his teeth over her nub.

"God, do that," Sara murmured, forcing her eyes open so she could look at him. "Just like that. Use. . . use two fingers."

Michael grew harder at Sara's breathy command and he pulled his finger from her to lick away her nectar. He sucked on two of his fingers, lubricating them again and then slid them home once more. "How's that, baby?" he whispered, pulling his fingers across her sensitive insides over and over while he watched her fact contort with passion.

"That feels so good," Sara murmured, thrusting her hips with each movement of his fingers. "Oh, Michael. . . you're going. . . you're going to make me come."

"Yeah?" Michael growled, increasing his pace inside in her and letting his thumb circle over her clitoris. Sara nodded a weak smile, her bottom lips white beneath her teeth. "Yeah...come for me Sara..." he whimpered huskily.

Sara climaxed, tightening around his fingers. She cried out his name, fluttering her eyes closed. "God, Michael, you're so amazing."

Michael basked in the glory of his name on her lips, stroking her down from her orgasm before moving the sex coated hand to his own arousal and rubbing the clear, thick, womanly ejaculation over his length. "I'm not done..." he growled playfully, shuffling up her body and entering her with one quick action. He stilled inside of her still shaking body, his lips hovering above hers briefly, before he pressed his weight into her naked form and gently rocked his hips forward. There was no space between their bodies when Michael finally seized her lips for a kiss.

Sara let out a moan into his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck. She hooked her leg over his hip, pressing their bodies as close as physically possible, and thrusting her hips up into his.

Michael rocked his hips again as gently as he could into her hyper sensitive centre. He had given her no time to recover from her first orgasm and he wanted to savour the feel of being buried within her with contracting muscles pulling him even deeper still. Michael slid his hand down the side of her body, holding his hand to her thigh that was cast over his hip and holding them together. He rocked back, letting the tiniest bit of daylight creep between them before thrusting into her again and gobbling her shuddering moan with his own mouth.

Sara kissed him back, slowing down the kiss. She allowed her tongue to dance across his slowly, letting out a tiny moan into his mouth each time he moved slowly into her. Her fingers trailed up his back, massaging slow circles into his skin.

There was no sound but the ocean as they made love in the hot, romantic, Italian afternoon. Michael wanted to stay like this forever, wrapped up in Sara's arms, kissing her sweet lips and making love to her for all eternity.

Finally, Sara had to pull herself away from his kiss. "Michael. . . " she pressed her lips to his cheek. "I'm . . . close."

Michael's other hand rested itself on the side of her face, holding her to his cheek while he panted in her ear. "Me...too..."

Sara went over the edge first, drawing Michael's body as close to her as she could while her second orgasm racked her body. It was even more intense than the first, and she found herself gasping for breath.

Michael felt Sara's body spasm and shake beneath him and he held his breath while he quickly thrust long and deep into her a few more times. His sudden speed made Sara arch into him even more and all he could do was swallow her cries with his lips as he came. Michael's stomach burned and then cooled as the release washed over him and he spilled his second helping of creamy, hot semen into Sara's body. He began to breath again, gently jerking his hips a few more times as they both came down from a natural high and stared lovingly into each other's eyes. "You're so...you're so beautiful," he rasped against the corner of her mouth, resting his forehead to hers.

Sara let out a quiet laugh, brushing her lips against his before collapsing down onto the sand. "I knew that suit would do the trick."


	26. Chapter 26

Sara bustled around the spacious Italian kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner. Michael had brought back flowers along with the food for her to prepare dinner, and she had set them in a vase in the middle of the table. When she was completely satisfied, she moved into the living room where he was laying on the couch. "You ready for this?"

Michael sprang to his feet and bolted after her as she led him back to the dining table. "You bet!" he exclaimed, rubbing his hands together excitedly. "Mmm, lasagna," he smiled, leaning into her back and kissing her neck. "One of my favourites," he said, taking his seat she had laid out for him.

Sara pushed a knife into the center of the lasagne, cutting Michael a large square. She placed it in front of him and smiled, placing a kiss to his cheek. "You take the first bite."

Michael twiddled his fork in his fingers and then dug into the square of meat, sauce and lasagne noodles eagerly. He lifted it in front of his face, puzzled by the lack of steam and aroma coming from the sample. "Uh...Sara?" he said with a frown. "I think...it's cold...” he offered gently.

"How can it be cold?" Sara arched an eyebrow and stuck a fork in it. She looked back to the oven, "I cooked it on 450 for 40 minutes."

Michael followed her gaze to the oven. "Um...no you didn't..." he pointed out quickly. "The temperature is different in Europe," he smiled, a tiny laughter slipping from his mouth. Sara glared at him. "I'm sorry!" he chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand.

"Don't laugh!" Sara hissed, whacking him across his arm. She crossed her arms, and looked away, trying not to cry. "I wanted to do something nice for us!"

Michael ducked from her attack. "I'm sorry," he repeated when his laughter subsided. He stood up and smoothed his hands down her tensed arms. "It's the thought that counts," he said gently.

"No, it's not," Sara mumbled, pulling away from him. "I always just mess things up!"

"No you do not," Michael told her firmly. "Hey, look at me..." Michael soothed turning her to face him. "...you do not mess things up."

Sara gave him a look and rolled her eyes. She brushed a stray tear from the corner of her eyes and shook her head. "I can't even make a stupid pasta dish."

Michael smiled at her and shook his head gently. "Sara, I don't need you to cook me dinner to know that you are special," he beamed, pulling her to his chest. "You're special to me regardless of if you can cook in a foreign country or not."

Sara wrapped her arms around his stomach and pouted. "You're making fun of me."

A hearty laugh ripped through Michael's body. "A little..." he admitted with a grin. "Here..." he handed her a pizza place menu he had found in the kitchen. "...why don't you redeem yourself?" he teased smoothly.

Sara snatched the menu from his hand and muttered under her breath as she picked up the cordless phone. "I can't believe our romantic dinner has been reduced to pizza!" She placed the order then hung up, sighing. "It won't be here for about an hour."

Michael silently damned the secluded villa, whilst silently praising it too. "So, let's have a chat," he said calmly, walking into the lounge and throwing his weight down onto the couch. He held out an arm and smiled at Sara, waiting for her to sit next to him and snuggle into his embrace.

"A chat?" Sara settled down next to him, cuddling up to her husband. She glanced towards the clock on top of the mantle. "What kind of chat do you have in mind?"

"About how we are going to do this when we get home," he said, hugging her even closer to him. "We need some rules of conversation," he laughed.

Sara rubbed her hand up and down his arm, nodding slowly. "Michael, are you sure censoring ourselves is the right approach?"

"Well, I just thought...if we had a list of do's and don't...cans and cants, we wouldn't end an argument with such hurtful things all the time," he said slowly, circling a pattern on her shoulder. "Like..." He looked up at the ceiling before smiling boyishly. "...rule number one: no mention of Nika or 'the ex-wife' ever again," he suggested. "That hurts me. Now, it's your turn."

"You have an ex-wife, Michael. We can't just ignore that," Sara told him. She shrugged, thinking for a second. "No more accusations about my relationship with your brother."

"Okay," Michael agreed. "No more ganging up on me with Dr. Fry," he smiled.

"No more leaving me at Dr. Fry's alone," Sara told him seriously. "Ever. I mean it, Michael."

"Okay," Michael repeated again. "I'm sorry about that by the way. I was going to come back but I just needed..." he trailed off, not wanting to say what he had done out loud and in detail. "...Oh, I know..." he smirked, looking down at her playfully. "...kirsch cherries, strawberries, dark chocolate and whipped cream must be used in hot, sweaty, sticky foreplay at least once a week," he grinned. Sara shot him a look. "A fortnight?" he offered.

Sara reached over, tickling his side. "So much for serious conversation." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "You have to take a shower with me at least three times a week. At least."

"Another fantasy?" Michael quirked an eyebrow.

"I just like showering with you," Sara murmured, leaning over and pressing her lips to his neck. "And you have to accept who I was before you, Michael. What I did. Maybe I don't shoot up anymore, Michael, but I am an addict. And I still think about it, okay? And I need to know that you're okay with that being a part of what made me who I am today. Not that you can push it back and forget about it. But that you accept it."

Michael stilled his rubbing on her arm as he pondered her words. Maybe it was something about Italy but Michael felt at ease with Sara's past. "I'm okay with it. As long as you promise me you don't sit and wonder why on earth you shacked up with an ex con...because that plays on my mind sometimes," Michael admitted. "The sex must be really good," he teased, making light of the situation.

Sara rubbed up and down his arm, looking at him seriously. "Sometimes I wonder why this ex-con," Sara pressed her hand into his chest. "Wanted to shack up with me." She pointed back to herself. "You're an amazing man, Michael."

He grinned down at her and pressed his lips to hers quickly. "So, it is the sex then?" he teased.

"Of course it's the sex," Sara wrapped her arms around his neck and melted into him. "I married you for the sex. What else did you think?"

“I knew it,” he breathed, pulling her to him and kissing her softly.

Sara shifted, moving so she was practically sitting in his lap. "You know, the sex and the fact that you love me like no one else ever has."

Michael smirked modestly. “Oh baby, don’t stop the flattery!” he laughed, pulling her onto his lap further and stroking a hand down her legs. “You know I like it…” he growled, pressing his lips to her neck.

“You know me so well,” Sara smiled, lifting his hand and kissing his fingertips softly.

"I know all of you," he reiterated, watching her kiss his digits with awe. “Every. Single. Inch.”

Sara pressed her forehead against his. "Any other rules I'm supposed to follow back in Chicago."

Michael took a breath and held it, trying to think. "Um..." he sang, extending the syllable out. "We must endeavor to make love at least once a day for the rest of our lives," he grinned, remembering the question she had asked him.

"I like the sound of that," Sara smirked. She brushed her fingers through his hair. "Michael, I am so, so sorry."

"No more apologies, okay?" he said tenderly, kissing the side of her temple.

"But I mean it," Sara told him softly, rubbing her hand on his chest. "I hate what we were, Michael. What we became. I will do everything I can to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"So will I," he said sincerely. "How about you? Got any more rules?" he smiled sweetly, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her back against his chest.

"No more rules. . ." Sara shook her head slowly, resting her head against him. "As long as you promise to love me forever."

“I promise.” He smiled at her and just held her to him, letting their hearts beat together in the silent room.

  
Michael stared out of the window as the plane soared above the ocean. He couldn't see anything but the fluffiness of white cloud, glistening around the edges as the sun beat down on them. They had been flying for a few hours so far and the in-flight movie was boring. Michael had read and re-read the safety leaflets and still, he was bored. Some people were sleeping but he was wide-awake, so to pass the time, he had taken to staring out of the window.

Sara adjusted her soft, flowing skirt against her knees, and glanced over, watching Michael stare out the window. She took his hand in hers and kissed it. "Sad we're going home? Back to reality."

He nodded. "A little. I can't stop thinking about 'what ifs'," he admitted. "Like, what if we can't change after all?" he said sadly.

"Stop thinking like that," Sara murmured, shaking her head and leaning closer to him. "This is going to work, Michael. It's supposed to be me and you."

“You’re right,” he whispered in the silent plane. All they could hear was the hum of the engines but even that didn’t drown out their voices all the way. “I just have too much time to sit and think,” he admitted.

"Well, stop thinking," Sara told him softly. She ran her hand slowly up and down his arm. "You think too much." She looked at him seriously and nodded slowly. "We're going to be okay."

Michael smiled at her and glanced around the almost deserted plane. Most of the passengers were asleep or reading, or occasionally laughing along with the third viewing of the in-flight movie. Michael licked his lips and let his hand slip around Sara's thigh, gently brushing against her crotch in the confined space. "Maybe...if I had something to occupy my mind..." he smirked.

Sara's breath hitched in her throat, and she pulled away, biting on to her bottom lip. "Well, you could always watch the in-flight movie." She stood, looked towards the back of the plane, and the back to him. "I am going. . . to the bathroom." With a wink, she left him sitting in his seat.

Michael couldn't help but smile to himself as he watched her go. As soon as she was in the tiny compartment, he grabbed the headrest in front of him and pulled himself to his feet. He shuffled down the aisle and apologised when he bumped into a stewardess, offering her a smile and a nod but silently cursing her for blocking his path to Sara. His hand found the circular recessed handle in the door, and he turned it, pulled the door open and quickly slid inside, locking it behind him.

Sara sat perched on the small sink. She crossed her arms and broke into a bright smile when Michael entered the confined space. She tilted her head to the side and squinted her eyes. "I don't remember inviting you along on my bathroom break."

"You're not exactly using the bathroom in the appropriate manner," he smirked, closing the already minute gap between them and capturing her lips for a kiss. He pulled back and offered her a quick smile and then broke into a fit of giggles, that was quickly joined by Sara. "Shhh..." he said through his laughter. "You know...we have to be quiet..." he teased, knowing full well Sara had a hard time not screaming his name.

"Oh, because I'm the one whose always loud?" Sara teased, wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed him softly, "We should probably make this fast, but you're pretty good at that right anyway, hmm?" She broke into another fit of giggles, which she quickly tried to stifle.

Michael shook his head whilst laughing at her remark. He bit his tongue between his teeth and pulled away from her. "You'll pay for that," he promised with a wry smile.

Sara trailed her lips along his jaw line while reaching down to unbuckle his pants. She slid them slowly down his thighs and pressed her mouth to his ear, "Promise?"

Michael growled low in his throat and captured her lips in a searing hot kiss. Their tongues danced, massaging each other with a hasty abandon before Michael needed air and pulled back with a groan. He caught sight of the mirror behind Sara and pulled her off the sink, spinning her to face their reflections. "Guess what I am thinking?" he smirked, gently sliding his hands up her thighs and dragging her skirt with them.

"You're thinking. . ." Sara trailed off and her eyes fluttered closed as Michael's touch moved higher and higher on her leg. "I'm guessing you think it would be . . . pretty hot. . . if we watched ourselves having a quickie in that mirror."

"You wouldn't?" He whispered against her ear, pulling her hair out of the way so he could kiss her neck. His eyes flicked towards her reflection and he slid his warm fingers around to the inside of her bare thigh and gently stroked the softness of her panties. "You don't want to...watch?" he rasped, catching her dazed expression in the mirror and tugging her panties sideways to touch her delicate, wet arousal.

She started to speak but found herself at a loss for words when he touched her. She pressed her hands against the sink, and leant over slightly, pressing back into his arousal. She glanced at them in the mirror, over her shoulder to Michael. "I'm not sure I want to know what I look like in the throes of passion."

Michael panted hard when she pressed herself into him and he dipped a thick, softened finger inside of Sara. She moaned against his face and he grinned at her reaction. "Trust me..." he said against the corner of her slightly open mouth, reaching to push his boxers down and free his aching erection. "...you will never see anything so beautiful," he whispered, letting his hand slide from inside her and easing her back onto his length slowly.

"Michael. . ." Sara moaned, leaning back forward. Her head bobbed down and her hair fell forward, fanning around her face. She rocked back into him, just slightly. "Oh, yeah."

His name of Sara's lips was enough to make him increase his pace, and he kept it steady as he entered her over and over. Something about the altitude sent his head giddy and he was drowning in the euphoria of making love in an airplane bathroom, an otherwise unromantic setting. Michael leant forward, flattening his body to Sara's and laid his hand over hers of the sink, lacing their fingers together whilst his hips rocked up into her. He panted gruffly into her ear, unable to say a word.

Sara moaned again, quietly, when Michael leaned into her. This wasn't like them. He had said, not long ago, he wished she was more adventurous, and she was giving it to him. What was most surprising was how much she was enjoying the spontaneity of the situation. She raised her head, watching in the mirror as his lips pressed against her ear. She whispered his name again. "I love you."

"I...love...you," Michael grunted on thrusts, trying desperately to catch her mouth with his for another ardent kiss. He picked up their hands and moved them in between Sara's legs where Michael used Sara's own hand to stimulate the sensitive skin of her clitoris. Sara gasped and Michael snapped his head back to the mirror, trying to catch her reflective hazel eyes with his. "Look..." he growled, moving her hand more furiously over her nub. "...look at us," he rasped with a smirk.

Sara caught his gaze in the mirror, smirking when she found her expression to be just as glazed and dazed with passion as his. She leaned back into him, wrapping her arm around his neck and pressing her lips to his cheek. "You're. . . pretty damn sexy."

"I told you," Michael groaned, turning to kiss her ferociously. When Sara's hand stilled between her legs, Michael's prompted it to go to work again, smiling against her skin when she moaned into the tiny room. "Yeah..." Michael panted against her face. "...Yeah, I like watching you do that," he said huskily, grabbing her hips and pulling her against him harder.

"Do you?" Sara breathing was becoming more ragged, and she felt the familiar tingling in the bottom of her stomach. Her eyes fluttered shut, "Michael. . . I'm going to. . ."

Michael's breathing became shallow and more frequent when Sara begged him to blind her with desire. "Say it..." he rasped, thrusting harder and deeper. He touched his hand to her face and coaxed her eyes open and met her hazy stare with his intense grey blue orbs. "...say it," he begged quietly, his own orgasm on the brow of his self control.

"I'm going to come," Sara whispered. She leaned closer, pressing her lips to his. "I want you to make me come."

No sooner had Sara's plea left her lips, Michael's pent up pressure released and he spilled his hot, creamy seed into her. With shaky legs he carried on thrusting, turning Sara's face to his and kissing away her moans that began to escalate in volume in the echoing bathroom.

“Oh my god....wow,” Sara panted.

"Indeed," Michael smiled, his voice changed with passion and velvety smooth as it came from his lips. He brushed a stray strand of damp hair from Sara's eyes and tucked it behind her ear, kissing her quickly again. He pulled his boxers and pants back up, buttoning them quickly and not being able to resist reaching out and touching Sara again. While she tidied her hair, smoothing and flattening it down on top of her head, he pulled her skirt back down into position and let his hands linger over her behind. "It's a shame we don't have a private jet," he smirked at her reflection.

Sara laughed quietly, suddenly feeling slightly embarrassed by how bold she had behaved. Smoothing down her shirt and skirt, she checked her reflection in the mirror once more. Her hair was tousled. Turning back to face Michael, she reached for the door handle. "Ah, then you'd get sick of it."

He quirked an eyebrow at her playfully. "You think?" he whispered, lowering his mouth to hers one more time before she disappeared and left him in the bathroom alone.


	27. Chapter 27

Michael’s truck cruised along the freshly resurfaced road smoothly and only the hum of the tyres against the tarmac could be heard inside the vehicle. There was almost no other traffic around as Michael entered the city limits. He looked at his watch quickly, pulling his tie loose around his neck when he had confirmed it was severely late. He had been driving all day and it was almost 9PM and the high pitched jingle of his cell phone jolted him awake. He pressed the answer button on his hands free earpiece and turned on his business voice. “Scofield,” he said simply.

"Well, what a coincidence!" Sara cooed into the phone. She smirked, dropping down to sit on the couch. "That just so happens to be my last name too." She laughed quietly. She was more than happy Michael was coming home from his trip. She didn't think she'd ever missed anyone so much.

A smile played on Michael’s lips and he flashed a glance into the rear view, checking behind him at the traffic barren street. “Hey, baby,” he said in a deep, velvety voice, turning onto another deserted city street. “I’m coming home,” he said smoothly. "I've missed you," he whispered.

"You are?" Sara smiled softly, relaxing back onto the cushions. She smirked, closing her eyes. "And how close are you to home?"

The truck pulled to a halt as a crossroads, the four way traffic signals not in Michael’s favour. Michael leaned forward over his steering wheel and looked at the street sign on the crossing out of the window. “I’ll be another twenty minutes or so,” he shrugged. “Why? You excited to see me?” he smirked.

"Oh, you know it." Sara sighed. "It's been so lonely here. All of me is excited for you to get here, baby."

The signals changed and the shiny black Warrior lurched to life. “Oh yeah?” Michael almost whispered, his voice hushed. “How excited?”

"Mmm. So excited. . ." She dropped her voice to a sultry whisper. "The bed is so big and lonely without you. I might have to meet you naked at the door."

“Don’t tease me with ‘might’, Sara,” Michael growled. He let a small laugh escape his throat, filling the car as he pressed a little harder on the gas and the engine roared. “Are you in bed now?” he asked, almost shyly.

"No. . ." Sara smirked and shook her head even though he couldn't see her. "I'm on the couch. Do you wish I was in bed?"

“Awww,” Michael pouted. “Yes I do. I wish you were naked too…” he paused, gauging the amount of redness in her cheeks at his words. “I love to see you all naked,” he breathed, his breath condensing against the window as he turned his head to inspect for traffic before turning down the street.

"Well, you only have to wait about. . . 17 more minutes?" Sara let out a soft sigh, sinking down onto the cushions. "What do you want to do to me when you get here?"

Michael titled his head and twisted his smile into an expression of thought. “Oh I don’t know…I’ll think of something in the next seventeen minutes,” he smirked, lowering his voice. “I’m very…very resourceful,” he whispered gruffly, letting his words linger on his tongue before they drizzled into the mouth piece and into Sara’s ear.

"God, I've missed you," Sara murmured into the phone, dropping her voice. "Did you miss me as much as I missed you? Did you think about me. . . at night?"

“Of course,” he sang, a little insulted she had to ask. “Sometimes, more then once and in the middle of the night,” he cooed huskily. “My hand has never been so popular,” he chuckled.

Sara giggled quietly. "Yeah, but you pretend it's my hand, right?"

“Would that make you happy?” Michael quirked his eyebrow, even though she couldn’t see him. He pulled up to another traffic junction and the lights were red again.

"You know what would make me happy?" Sara question softly. "You here. Right now. Touching me."

Michael felt his gut wrench at her words, twisting itself into a frenzy as his arousal began to tingle in his groin. “Oh, baby…” Michael breathed, his voice barely audible in the truck. He tapped his fingers impatiently against the wheel and the light changed, signalling his go. “…You’ll have to wait…or you could touch yourself? And describe every detail to me.”

Sara bit on her bottom lip, letting out a quiet hum. "Actually, you know what? I haven't touched myself all week, baby."

Michael turned onto a familiar street and smirked to himself. “I don’t believe you,” he whispered through his smile.

"Oh, I'm being serious," Sara whispered. "I just thought. . . if I could hold off? And wait for you. . . it would be an amazing orgasm."

A slight moan left Michael’s mouth and he closed his eyes, gulping hard. “Say that again…” he growled. “Say…orgasm.”

Sara bit her bottom lip and giggled quietly. "Orgasm?"

“Ooo…” Michael groaned, feeling the hardness of his erection press against his pants. “…how about once more, with lust?” he smirked, turning left onto their street, the street lights illuminating up his face in magnificent orange as he passed under each one. Just before he got to their house he cut the engine, rolling the truck to a silent stop outside their house.

Sara smirked and voiced a quiet moan into the phone. "Orgasm. . ."

“Oh yeah…” Michael hissed into the phone, slowly rubbing his hand over his crotch. “…God…” he breathed. “…You wait until I get home.”

"You better get here quick," Sara murmured, fluttering her eyes closed. "I don't know how much longer I can take it."

“I’m hurrying,” Michael lied with a smile. He slid from the truck, coughing a little to cover the sound of the door closing behind him. He made his way to the front door, uncomfortably rearranging his pants the whole time before he reached out and knocked on the door. “Who’s that baby?” Michael faked concern, waiting for her to come to the door.

"I don't know. . ." Sara muttered under her breath, pushing up from the couch. "It better not be your fucking brother. I'll kick him out." She let out a sigh and pushed the door open.

"Well?" he smirked up at her, reaching out his hand to lean it against the doorframe. "Who was it?"

Sara let out an excited squeal, clicking the phone off and tossing it to the side. "You!" With another excited shout she threw herself at him, tossing her arms around his neck.

Michael caught her mid jump, wrapping his arms around her body and hugging her tightly. He walked them into the house and kicked the door shut behind him, instantly dropping her to her feet and letting his hands find her face. He let go briefly to rip the ear piece from his head, tossing in onto the table nearby and pant excitedly against her face. He grabbed her face again, pulling her to him roughly for a wanton, lust filled kiss, full of moans and tongue massages. When he absolutely couldn’t breathe anymore, he pulled back, biting her bottom lip playfully. “God, I missed you,” he grunted, diving his head to her neck and licking at the flesh under her earlobe.

Sara let out a quiet hiss, pulling her body far enough away from him so that she could start undoing his buttons. "Oh, God, baby. Not as much as I've missed you." She quickly pushed his shirt of his shoulders. "How about you never, ever go on a business trip again?"

Michael’s skin prickled to life when the cool air found his skin and he pulled at Sara’s top, pulling it over her head quickly and discarding it with his own. He stalked forward, capturing her lips in another hated kiss and backing her slowly towards the stairs. “Deal,” he grunted against the corner of her mouth, quickly moving his lips back to hers. His hands rushed down her body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake and he grabbed at her hipbone, crushing her to his arousal with a groan.

Sara smiled as his lips met hers again and her shirt was discarded to the floor. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she pulled away slightly as he pressed into her hip. "Ouch."

"Ouch?" Michael repeated with a frown, his lips red and slightly swollen. "Why ouch?" he panted, trying to be a bit more delicate as he unbuttoned her jeans and opened the fly between kisses.

"I, uh. . ." Sara cleared her throat and glanced down. He was about to reveal her new marking any moment. "You'll see."

“Oh a surprise,” he growled, pulling her face to his again and spinning her around with a force, slamming her body into the wall at the base of their stairs. He slid one of his legs in between hers, gently rubbing his knee over her own slightly damp core while his hands pushed inside the back of her jeans, pushing them over the curve of her behind and letting them fall to the floor. His hands slid back up her thighs, over her behind and traced the curve of her spine before finally trailing over the milky smooth skin of her hip where they stopped abruptly. Michael broke their kiss suddenly and frowned. “What the…?” he said confused by her lightly scaled skin. He looked down between them, taking a step back to admire the ink decorating Sara’s hip. “…You got a tattoo?”

Sara cleared her throat and tilted her head to the side, unsure of how he'd react. She knew it wasn't something he necessarily wanted her to do, but she had wanted it. And she liked it. "Yeah. . . right after you left. It's still a little sensitive."

Michael looked back up to her with a twisted smile. “You got a tattoo…” he repeated, looking back down at it excitedly. “…of a crane?” he frowned a little, tracing his finger delicately over the black outline. “It’s pretty,” he said softly. “Prettier than I thought it would be,” he shrugged, dipping his head back down to kiss her collarbone.

Sara smirked, leaning against the wall and running her hand up his chest. "So. . . you like it then?" She let out a quiet moan and tilted her head backwards as he kissed her.

“I love it…” he rasped against her skin, licking up her jaw line before kissing over her chin and capturing her mouth in another heated kiss. He pressed his body harder into hers and let his hands find her hips again, ducking under the waistband of her panties and cupping the firmness of her behind.

"Why are your pants still on?" Sara murmured against his mouth. She fumbled for his belt and quickly undid it, sliding his pants down over his hips. "God, I want you."

“Oh Sara…” Michael groaned, stepping back from the wall and pulling her with him. “It’s been too long…I can’t wait to be inside of you,” he moaned, unclasping her bra and letting it fall slack of her chest. “I want you now…”

Sara let out a soft moan and pushed his boxers down his legs. They pooled on the floor with his pants and she pulled him close to her as he stepped out of them. "Then take me. Right now."

A low rumble escaped Michael’s chest as he trailed his hands up her body, gently tracing the outside of her breast as he pushed her back against the wall. All coherent thought left him as he cupped her breast in his hand and flicked her nipple with his thumb, hardening when Sara moaned against his mouth. “Stairs…uncomfortable…” he gasped, feeling the warmth of her naked body up against his before shaking his head as if he was answering his own words. “…Don’t care,” he growled, lifting her arms above her head and smoothing his hands over her arms, pressing his palm into hers and locking their fingers.

Sara moaned, shaking her head slowly. "Don't care . . ." she repeated, her breath hitching in her throat. "I just. . . oh yeah. . . want you."

Michael pulled her to him again and swung her sideways, backing her towards the staircase with a menacing grin. “Oh, you’re going to get me,” he smirked when her feet banged the bottom step and she toppled down onto her behind with a grunt. “You’re going to get all of me,” he crawled over her, resting one of his knees between hers on the step and gripping at the edge of the stairs on either side of her head.

"Yeah?" Sara murmured, her eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. "Right now?" She ran her hands down his back and lower. "I want you right now."

Michael trailed his hands back down her body, smoothing them around the inside of her thighs and massaging the soft skin there. One of his hands moved up higher, teasing her folds with a single digit that was left hot, wet and glistening with her juices. “Oh baby…” he rasped against her neck, tilting his head so that his mouth was just outside her ear. “…I can tell,” he smirked evilly, gently inserting a finger into her slowly. “I want you just as much…” he growled, her back arching into his hand as he tickled her insides. “…Can you tell? Stroke me, Sara. Let me fuck your hand, baby,” he breathed.

Sara let out a quiet whimper as he slid his finger into her. Her hips bucked up just slightly and she groaned. She needed more. "I love how you touch me, baby." She fluttered her eyes open and reached out, delicately wrapping her fingers around him. She began to slowly stroke. "Yeah, you're so hard."

“It’s all for you,” Michael choked out, gently rocking his hips forward into her hand in time with his fingers in her own body. “I want to make you…oh yeah, like that…” he trailed off as Sara gave his member a light squeeze, sending his impending release shooting for his gut. “On your knees…” he commanded firmly. “Let me where you want me.”

Sara smirked, leaning in and nipping gently at the sensitive skin on his neck. "Whatever you say, baby." She turned on the stairs, kneeling down and supporting herself with her hands on the stair above her.

“Oh yeah…” Michael said, bending slightly to look at her sex, slick and pulsating before him, eagerly anticipating his arrival. He took himself in his hand and bit down on his bottom lip and he flicked his wrist up and down, lubricating himself with precum and keeping his eyes on Sara swaying her hips in front of him. He reached out a hand, smoothing it over her hip before moving forward again and positioning himself behind her. “You know how much I’ve missed you?” he said, his voice changed with desire.

"I have a pretty good idea," Sara murmured, her eyes closing. She couldn't wait to feel him inside her. She rocked her hips back, telling him what she wanted. "If it's half as much as I missed you. . . '

Michael hissed with pleasure when her slick heat enveloped his tip, twitching and trying to pull him deeper. “I never want to be away again…” Michael whispered, grabbing hips and impaling her agonisingly slowly. He held his breath, savouring the fell of her around him as he entered her, her heat scorching his skin and pulling him even deeper. When he was buried to the hilt within her he relaxed, letting out a breath and slumping his body against hers. “Oh fuck…”

"I never. . . oh, God, yes. . . want you to be away again. . ." Sara's voice was half-whisper half-moan. She rocked her hips back into him slightly, trying to take him even deeper. "God. You feel so amazing."

Michael held her to him, his hand sliding around her waist and holding onto her stomach while he gently pulled out of her and thrust in again, halting while she shuddered under him. He pressed his lips to her back, right between her shoulder blades and trailed his lips down her spine, tickling her skin with his breath as he gave her another painfully slow thrust. “I love teasing you…” he smirked against the small of her back, letting his stubble scratch at her behind. “What you feel like inside…when you’re teased…it’s so much more then amazing…”

Sara smirked, pressing her hands deeper into the plush carpet of the stairs. "Oh, yeah?" Her breath hitched in her throat. "And how do I feel? I want you to tell me."

Michael pulled out of her again, devastatingly slowly until just his tip was resting inside of her. “Right now…you want me back…pulling at my cock…” he rasped, rocking his hips forward again and hiding within her. “You are wet and hot and when I do this…” he pulled back out of her into the cool of the room, reaching between them to pinch her clit. “…You can’t help but shudder inside. I feel it, Sara.”

Sara groaned and her head fell forward. Her hair fanned around her and she gasped, pushing her hips back into his. "Oh. . . harder. I want you, Michael, harder."

Michael smiled to himself and splayed a hand out to cover her back, pushing himself back up behind her. He began moving in a steady rhythm, pulling her hips and disappearing inside of her each time his hips bashed against her behind. A guttural moan escaped his throat and he let his head fall backwards, his fingernails raking at her skin as he entered her. “Like that? You like that?”

Sara bit her lower lip, moaning each time he thrust in and out of her. "Oh, yeah. You know I like that. Don't stop, baby. . ." She groaned, leaning forward to rest her head on the stairs. "Don't stop, Michael."

“Oh, baby…” Michael panted, increasing his pace and snaking a hand between her legs to roll her clitoris under his thumb. “…Sara…you’re so fucking…” his words failed him as he tilted his hips downwards and Sara’s squealed when he began exciting her g-spot.

Sara's breath hitched as he touched her. "Right there. Oh yeah. . ." She let out another long, loud moan and nodded her hair. "I'm going to come, Michael. I'm going to come."

Her words spurred him on and Michael bucked his hips into her harder. “Come for me baby…I want to feel you come…” he growled, leaning over her back and whispering the words into her ear. He trailed one of her hands down her arm as it braced itself against the stairs and he laced his fingers through hers, gripping into her palm. He heard her breath begin to escape her lungs quicker and he furiously agitated her bundle of nerves. “Come…” he whimpered, his voice hot and drizzling from his mouth like a sultry chocolate.

Sara's breath left her in a gasp and she bucked back into his hips once before her body stilled. Her eyes squeezed tight and she made a low hissing noise. "Oh yes, oh yeah. . . yes. . ."

Sara chanting was enough for Michael to lose himself and he clenched his jaw, squeezed his eyes shut and rested his forehead on her back, panting hard against her skin that prickled to life under his gasps. His hips moved furiously in and out of her, thrusting hard against her as his impeding release boiled up within him and he could take no more. He let out a cry, holding her close to him as he pounded into her a few more time, spilling his hot, salty seed deep within her and hissing with content as he rode them both down from their orgasms. “Shit…” he breathed against her sweaty skin, relaxing his grip on her hip and her hand.

A quiet laugh escaped Sara as she breathed heavily under him. "Wow. Maybe uh. . ." She laughed against and shook her head. "Maybe we should do this waiting a week thing more often."

Michael moved out of her and slid to sit beside her on the stairs. “No way,” he shook his head. “We should walk around naked all day and have sex on every surface,” he grinned playfully, tucking a damp strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. He let his hand wander over he features, cupping her chin gently and moving in to kiss her swollen lips softly.

Sara smiled against his mouth, nodding her head slightly as she kissed him. She pulled away slightly, "Mmm. I think that might be your best plan to date, Scofield." She moved closer, running her hand over his chest. "Me. You. No clothes? That's always been my favorite combination."

Michael’s hand found her hip and he traced his finger gingerly over the outline of her tattoo, not breaking eye contact. “That’s because it works so well,” he smirked, capturing her mouth in another kiss. He frowned a little pulling away when he remembered the slightly scabby feeling under his finger. “I have to ask…why a crane?” he said softly.

"Familial obligation, right?" Sara arched an eyebrow and relaxed down against the stairs. "Watching out for the ones you care about?" She smiled. "It reminds me of you."

Michael shrugged and looked down at his chest. “Think I could get one somewhere?” he smiled and let a small laugh escape his mouth. “I like it,” he nodded. “No…” he leant forward, ducking his head and planting a kiss to the still sensitive area. “I love it. Very sexy,” he added with an arched eyebrow.

Sara smirked and reached around him, pinching gently at his butt cheek. "You could get one right there." She gave him a playful smile. "I'm glad you like it."

Michael’s body lurched forward when she pinched him and he laughed. “That was the worse excuse to touch my ass I have ever seen,” he shook his head dramatically. “Poor…just poor,” he smirked.

Sara's grin grew wider and she brushed her lips across his. "Hmm. I didn't know I needed an excuse?"

“Oh, you don’t,” Michael said playfully. “You can touch my ass anytime you want,” he grinned, toying with her fingers and interlocking them with his own. “Say…” he said slowly, shooting a glance up the stairs. “…I miss our bed. How about you come join me for some…well,” he shrugged, looking at her modestly. “…Saying sleep would be a waste of time.”

Sara rolled her eyes and stood, reaching down for him. "Baby, you don't have to ask for sex. I think you know I'm always ready and willing." She tilted her head to the side. "Will you make slow, sweet love to me?"

Michael smiled up at her sweetly. “My specialty,” he droned, scrambling up the stairs after her giggling form.

Sara rolled over in bed, snuggling up to Michael's figure. She had been awake for almost an hour, and he was still out. Well, she smirked. She had done a pretty good job wearing him out last night. But she wasn't done. She wanted more. Sighing, she rolled over, beginning to place light kisses on his chest. Smiling she ran her hand under the covers, gently massaging the inside of his thigh.

Michael smirked in his sleep, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile and he let out a low groan, shifting under the covers.

"Michael?" Sara murmured, rolling over to straddle him. "Do you want to wake up and . . . play with Sara?" She placed a soft kiss to his neck. "She wants to play with you."

“Mmm?” Michael grunted sleepily. His eyelids twitched and he felt a weight press on him together with the uncontrollable arousal in the pit of his stomach. He frowned a little, wondering why he had the forming of an erection when he hadn’t been dreaming of anything but blueprints and always wearing a hard hat at work. He peeled his eyes open, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the morning sunshine spilling through the cream drapes, illuminating Sara’s milky skin that sat on top of him. “Mmm,” he repeated with more of a content hum.

"Morning, lover. . ." Sara leaned down and pressed her lips to his. "Sleep well?" She moved her kisses over his jaw line and up to his ear where she began to softly suck at his earlobe. "I'm very horny."

Michael let his eyes roll closed again and he pushed his head back into the pillow, adjusting his hips slightly so his hardening member brushed across her damp entrance. “Hmmm, so I noticed,” he rasped, his voice changed by sleep. He pressed his hand to her shoulder blade, holding her against his body while he let her ravage him with kisses.

Sara moved her mouth down to his neck, nibbling on his skin. "How about you, baby?" She sucked at his skin. "Do you want me?"

Michael laughed a little at the ridiculousness of her question. “Of course. I always want you,” he said sweetly, teasing her with his innocent nature. He knew exactly what she wanted but he wasn’t about to give it up that easily. “How many times did I have you last night?” he said softly, trailing his hand down to rest on the swell of her behind. “And you’re still horny?”

"Well, maybe you shouldn't leave me for so long again," Sara murmured into his neck, smiling against his skin. "Maybe next time I won't be a good girl. I'll have to go find pleasure somewhere else. Of course, the orgasms won't be as good but sex is sex. And Sara's a horny girl."

“Sex is sex?” he repeated with an arched eyebrow, pulling his face back to look at her. “Sex is sex?” he repeated, insulted. “Well, if that’s how you feel…” he shrugged, grabbing her hips and pretending to move her off of him.

"Not with you!" Sara told him. "Just with anyone else." She placed a soft kiss to his lips, shaking her head slowly. "I think you know what you and I have is definitely not just sex."

“What I have…” Michael said softly, pulling her flat against his body. “…is a horny wife, and a raging erection…” he smiled, looking up at the ceiling absently. “So I ask myself…what do I do?”

Sara giggled, pressing a kiss to the underside of his chin. "Hmm. Well, you could make love to me."

“Hmmm…” Michael said, twisting his smile into a thoughtful grin. “I could,” he said offhandedly, noticing the frustration in her voice when he said it so casually.

"Michael Scofield!" Sara pouted, sticking out her bottom lip. She sighed, pretending to roll off of him. "Fine. I'll just pleasure myself."

“Wait, now…” Michael said, stopping her mid roll and pulling her back onto him. “Did I say I wouldn’t?” he quirked an eyebrow, reaching behind her and lifting the sheets up over both of them as he kissed her with a giggle.

Sara smiled against his mouth, pressing her body further into his. "I know you want me, Scofield. You can't get enough."

“Okay…” Michael smiled between kisses. “…You got me. I’m a fiend,” he smiled, deepening the kiss.

"Do you ever consider that maybe I'm so horny so often because of how good you are?" Sara smirked, running her tongue along his bottom lip. "I love how you feel in me. It's like we were made for each other."

“Then we’d better…” Michael growled, grinding his hips up and rubbing his erection against her sex. “…sort you out,” he smirked, panting against her face. He pulled her face to his and kissed her feverishly, groaning against her mouth when he rocked against his arousal. The high pitched squeal of their bed side telephone caught his attention and he grumbled out loud, flipping the covers back and staring at the phone.

"Don't answer it," Sara puffed against his chest, shaking her head. She darted her tongue along his chest, tracing his tattoo. "This is more important. Much, much more important."

Michael let his eyes flutter closed and willed the phone to stop ringing. As if by magic, it did, and he flipped the covers back over his head, laughing as he recaptured Sara’s lips in his and smoothed his hands over her body. He nibbled on her bottom lip and growled in frustration when the phone began to ring again. “I have…to answer it…” he grumbled through Sara’s kisses.

"Noooo. . ." Sara whined with a slight shake of her head. She ran his hand up his arm, moving to lace her fingers through his so that he couldn't reach for the phone. "Do you realize what I'm offering you, Scofield?"

Michael reached for the phone, gulping hard as Sara wiggled against his body. He turned the phone towards him and looked at the number on the caller ID. “It’s work…” he mumbled, grabbing the phone and rolling sideways until Sara was pinned under him. He shuffled himself under the sheet, untangling his other arm to rest it beside Sara’s head on the sheet as he answered the phone. “Um…hello?” he panted.

Sara let out a quiet grumble, shifting under him. He had just been gone for a week. He deserved a day off. He was supposed to have the day off, and they were supposed to spend it in bed. Sighing, she leaned up, pressing a wet kiss to his neck. She ran her hands down his torso, stopping to draw a soft pattern on his hipbones. She dropped her voice to a whisper, "Baby. . ."

Michael frowned, desperately trying to concentrate on the voice at the other end of the call. “Uh…” his breath caught in his throat when Sara ran her hands over his already alive skin, and his eyes fluttered close. “Yes…yes I heard…” he gasped, giving Sara a wicked smile when his gaze returned to hers.

Sara smirked, pleased that her mission was turning out the way she wanted it to. She continued her circular motions on his hips before trailing her hands down lower. Her grin growing wider she fluttered her fingertips across his length.

“Yes!” Michael gasped, flinching his hips sideways from Sara’s touch a little. “Yes…it’s um…” Michael closed his eyes desperately trying to remember where the file was they were asking for. Sometimes having and office at home and an office at work was the worst idea ever. His brow furrowed and Michael reached his free arm under the covers to still Sara’s with a pleading glance. “…It’s um…” he repeated looking down at Sara, but when she smiled, he was undone and he held the phone away from them at arms length while he ravaged her lips with his own.

"Get off. . ." Sara ran her hands over his back, then down lower, squeezing his bottom and pressing her hips up into his. "The phone." She fluttered her eyes closed and brushed her lips over his neck. "Please?"

“It’s in my office…somewhere,” Michael shouted at the phone, hanging up and dropping it off the edge of the bed to the floor. His face lit up in a wicked grin and he rolled them over again so Sara was on top of him. He reached over the edge of the bed, behind the bedside cabinet and tugged the phone line from the wall socket, rendering them unreachable. He shuffled back into position under her with a giggle. “Now, where were we?” he growled.

"Hmmm. . ." Sara thought it over for a moment, then sat up, leaning away from him and letting the sheet drop to around her waist. "I seem to have forgotten. You spent so long on the phone I don't remember what we were about to do. . ."

Michael arched an eyebrow at her and tickled his hands up the side of her thighs while she straddled him uncomfortably. “Well…” Michael looked over to the slightly open door. “…I could go to work…if you can’t remember,” he shrugged casually, trying to hide his smirk.

Sara rolled her eyes and dropped down so her chest was pressed against his. She barely brushed her lips across his, "Michael Scofield, I swear, if you don't make love to me right now. . ."

Michael wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over again, tangling them further in the sheets. Sara’s hair spilled out over the pillows and their feet poked out from the end of the bed. Michael braced himself on one arm, hovering above her body while he rubbed his arousal against hers enticingly. He trailed a feather set of fingertips down her side and teased the outside of her breasts with his fiery touch. He dipped his head so his mouth was just outside her ear, ready to whisper to her, and he heard her audibly gulp. “You’ll what?”

Sara groaned under him, arching her hips up. "God, Michael. . . I don't even know." She turned her head so she could brush her lips over the stubble on his cheek. "I just know that I can not get enough of you."

Michael finally lowered his head and kissed her skin. It was tender, barely touching the smooth milky skin of her collarbone but it left Sara’s skin ablaze with a familiar burning. “So…last night…has shown me…” Michael smirked against her skin, sliding down her body as he kissed lower, passing the rapid beat of her pulse in her neck and down the valley of her heaving breasts.

"Mmm. . ." Sara moaned softly as he moved down her body. Her eyes fluttered shut and her hips thrust up just slightly, waiting for him to come and give her what she wanted. "Are you complaining? Because I think. . . Oh, God. . . that maybe you can't get enough of . . . yeah, just a little lower. . . me either."

Michael disappeared under the crispness of the sheet, flashing her one last wicked glance before he was seated between her legs in the semi darkness, inhaling her scent as it oozed from her eager hotness. “You know…” Michael said casually, placing a kiss to the inside of Sara’s knee and dragging the tip of his hot tongue up her skin to the apex of her thighs. “…I can’t get enough of you. I never will…” he paused, using his hands to gently part her labia and take a well deserved glance at Sara’s hot pink clitoris. He pressed his lips to the sensitive flesh once and then licked his flat tongue up her entire sex before kissing it again. “Mmmm, you taste so good,” he growled huskily.

"Michael. . ." Sara let out a quiet whimper and shifted. "God, I want you to. . ." She bit her bottom lip and arched her back. "You know what I want you to do."

Michael smiled, hidden under the sheet that rippled and bobbed with each movement he made. He planted another long, linger kiss to her clit, gently parting his lips and sucking on the scorching flesh. Sara’s hips began to buck and he smoothed his hands around her thighs, holding them still and to his face. “You like that?” Michael panted, his breath teasing her skin even more. He relinquished his hold on one of her hips, slowly moving his hand to her core and slipping a single digit inside of her. “You want this?” he breathed, flicking his tongue out across her once more. “You want more?”

"God, I love that, Michael. . ." Sara's voice was barely above a whisper as she bucked her hips, trying to get his finger deeper, trying to get him to touch her where she liked it best. "I love how you touch me." She whimpered quietly. "Take off the sheet, I want to watch."

Michael sat up abruptly, letting the sheet tumble and pool at his waist. He gave her a smile, licking his lips and tasting her before he crawled up her body with a wicked smile. His mouth hovered above hers, his eyes fixed intently on her half lidded stare as his hand found her again and it thrust two fingers into her with a frightful force, stilling them and curling them to tickle at her insides. “Kiss me…” he rasped, watching her throw her head back into the pillows. “…I want you to taste yourself.”

Sara wrapped one hand around Michael's neck, drawing him closer to her. She met his lips in a long, heated kiss, tangling her tongue with his and moaning into his mouth. Her other hand slipped between them to lightly stroke him.

Michael deepened the kiss even more, crushing his lips to Sara’s as she stroked him, slowly arching his back into her touch. Her knuckles brushed his abdomen and he increased his pace in and out of her core with his fingers, pressing his thumb to her aching bundle of nerves and applying an even pressure as he groaned into her mouth.

"Michael. . ." Sara pulled away from his mouth and groaned. She buried her head in his neck, thrusting her hips up and stroking him harder. "Oh, yeah. Right there. Oh, God. . . Oh, God oh god oh god. . ."

Michael hissed against her skin when he felt her hand squeeze harder and pull at his skin even harder. Sara’s muscles began to clench around his fingers, trying desperately to drag him in deeper, each side twitching and closing on his hand in spasmodic flutters. Michael pulled his hand from her warmth, harshly lubricating his member with her juices with a shaky hand before he laid on his side beside her. “Leg…over here…” Michael whimpered against her ear, gently lifting her leg and encouraging her to drape it over his own as he slid his body closer to hers and positioned himself at her entrance. Michael held his breath and entered her slowly, feeling her muscles still pinching and pulling at her erection as he buried himself within her. “Sara…” He moaned and threw his arm over her body, gripping at her hip and holding her body to his while he began moving within her.

Sara let out another moan, not even able to formulate words as he thrust inside her before she had even come off her orgasm. She clutched at his shoulder, panting heavily. Her head lulled back and she nodded slowly. "Michael. . ."

“Yeah, baby…” Michael panted on each deep, powerful thrust of his hips. “…Tell me how I feel…tell me how you want it…”

"You feel so good. It makes me feel. . ." She shuddered against him slightly. "So, so good." He thrust into her and she placed a hand on his hip, stilling him for a moment. "Wait. Oh yeah." She shifted against him just slightly, taking him as far in as he would go. "Oh yeah."

Michael pressed his face to the side of hers and let out a growl as he filled her. “Wait…wait for what, baby?” he said breathlessly, relentlessly fighting his own release as he sought out Sara’s second one. “What do you want, Sara?” he panted, gritting his teeth.

"I just. . ." She moaned, biting down hard on her bottom lip. It took all her strength not to push him over and ride him. "I want it to last."

Michael let out a sigh, resting his forehead against her temple and kissing the edge of her mouth. He stilled inside of her, feeling her weakened muscles periodically twitching against his member as he held her there. One of his hand smoothed it’s way up her body, over the rise and fall of her abdomen as she panted and across the swell of her breasts until it rested on her cheek. “Look at me,” Michael said softly, gently turning her head so he could look her in the eye. “Sara, I love you,” he said softly, his skin flushed and tiny beads of sweat seeping from his forehead. “I love you,” he repeated slowly.

"I love you." A grin twitched at the sides of Sara's mouth and she brought her hand up to cup his cheek. She brushed her thumb gently over his cheek, she leaned in and met his lips in a kiss. Slowly, she began to thrust her hips against his. "I love you so much."

Michael met her thrusts with an ardent rhythm, desperate for contact but desperate to make it last. He thrust into her painfully slowly, kissing her lips each time and letting his tongue moisten her lips, mimicking the action of his thrusts. His heart pounded in his chest and he pressed his skin harder against Sara’s body, smoothing his hands down her arm and lacing his fingers with hers before resting them both on his hip.

Sara let out a soft moan, fluttering her eyes closed. Her breath came out in soft puffs as she tried to hold back her orgasm. "You realize how. . . ah yeah. . . how amazing this is, right?" She moaned quietly. "Will you come with me, Michael?"

“You’re…amazing…” Michael panted, moving their hands across to Sara’s body and pushing her tiny, delicate fingers towards her clitoris. “I’ll come with you, baby,” he rasped, entering her harder and a little faster than before, letting a groan escape him each time. “…oh fuck, Sara…please…” he begged her slowly. “…come with me.”

Sara groaned as she worked her clitoris, his fingers on top of hers. She reached her peak fast, her hips bucking back into his. "Oh, God, Michael. I'm coming. Oh, yeah . . . " She let out a hiss, pressing herself into him.

“That’s it, baby…” Michael gasped, feeling the build up of pressure in his own groin as her inner muscles began to draw on his erection. “I’m so close…”

Sara stilled against him, her breathing becoming shallow as her orgasm washed over her in waves. "Ohhhhh, Michael. . ." She couldn't manage anything else as she bit her bottom lip.

Michael’s body shuddered and he let out a held breath quickly. “Oh, Sara…” he growled. “…Here it comes…I’m coming, baby…” he said with a clenched jaw, high eyes tightly closed as he threw his head back and let out another guttural groan. His hips jerked again and he gripped at Sara’s hand, his blunt tipped fingers digging into her palm and his biceps rippling beneath his skin. “Oh shit…fuck, Sara…god…” Michael babbled, hiding his face in her shoulder as he came deep inside of her.

Sara lay still for several moments, catching her breath. Letting out a content sigh, she reached around, trailing her fingers down his arm. "Now wasn't that better than talking on the phone?"

“Mmmm…” Michael smiled, kissing her neck as he slid from her and reached for the sheet at his feet. “…I promise, I’ll never answer the phone again…” he panted, hiding their naked forms beneath the sheet and pressing himself against her body. He hummed against her chest where he had laid his head, wrapping his arm around her body and holding her firmly too his body. “…You think…maybe…we have a baby yet?”

"I don't know," Sara murmured softly, stroking his hand. "There could be a baby in there right now." She smiled softly. "It's fun to think about, isn't it? I want there to be a baby in there."

Michael smiled and ducked his head back under the covers, stroking his hand over her stomach and kissing her belly button. “Hello? Baby?” he cooed softly. “Are you there?” he grinned, his voice muffled under the sheet.

Sara shifted under him, unable to control her grin. "Are you going to be one of those husbands? The ones who talk to the belly and sing to it?" She bit her lip. "If I'm pregnant, we should know soon."

Michael flipped the sheet back breathlessly and looked up at her with an arched brow. “What’s wrong with husbands who sing to their wife’s belly?” he protested softly. “You don’t like my singing?” he pouted playfully.

Sara smirked, "Oh, baby. You know I love your singing. And I would love for you to talk to our future baby. Except if there is one in there, I don't think he or she has ears yet."

“Oh…” Michael said, loosing his smile and looking down at her belly. “Well…” he said with effort as he slid back up her body and his lips hovered above hers. “…I’ll have to sing to you,” he breathed. His gaze flickered between her lips and her eyes and he let his face spread into a broad grin before leaning own and capturing her lips in a slow kiss. He lifted one hand to caress her soft, rustic locks and deepened the kiss.


	28. Chapter 28

Michael liked to oversee certain aspects of his job. It was his attention to detail and his willingness to actually don the hardhat and step foot onto the site that made him one of a kind among engineers. The sun was shining, it had been all day and Michael sought some shade under a partially constructed room. It was supposed to be multi floored, by so far, the only floor that had been built was the top one, so the vast space between that and the ground offered ample shade. Lunch time had come, and he stood, surveying the idling workers with a sandwich in one hand and his hardhat tucked under his armpit.

Sara glanced to the clock, as she stood in the room of a patient with a head laceration, making notes into their chart. She asked a few questions, then glanced to the clock. It was passed her lunch time, but it didn't look like she was going to be getting one today. Her pager went off, and she grabbed it off of her lavender scrubs before hurrying back to triage.

The roar of an earthmover echoed in Michael’s ears and he stepped back slightly to avoid eating the dust cloud that emerged from underneath the huge tyres as it went past him. He squinted into the sun and held up his hand to shield his eyes from its burning as he noticed some of the men from his shift moving back to work. He glanced at his watch and noted he still had fifteen more minutes, but being the ever doting boss he was, he gathered his plans and headed towards the group of men that had congregated next to a stack of iron beams, leaving his lunch, bright yellow vest and hardhat behind.

Sara forced a smile at a nurse, sitting down and helping her with the long line of admissions that were sitting, waiting in the room. Apparently, everyone in Chicago was sick today. She took a manilla folder from Sandy, a young nurse, and walked around a corner to where a mother and her young daughter were sitting in a room, waiting. She pulled up a stool and sat down, listening to the mother list of all the daughter's symptoms.

The men hushed as Michael approached and they listened to his words as he pointed to specifics on the plans in his hands. The nodded, explaining that they understood and Michael gave them a cheerful smile and let them return to work. He liked to think he was a good boss. He never shouted as long as the job got done by the set deadline, and he was lenient with the work load. It was always better to have a realistic target, than a workforce who hated you for an unrealistic one.

"It sounds like she just needs a normal antibiotic," Sara smiled to the young mom. Penicillin. One of the three things she was allowed to prescribe. Taking out her pad she scribbled down what they would need, signing her name at the bottom. She smiled at the girl who looked to be about three. "Don't worry, honey. You'll be feeling better in no time."

The mom glanced at her wedding ring, then smiled at Sara. "Do you have any children?"

"Not yet," Sara told her softly, shaking her head.

Michael had a good feeling about today. He had promised Sara he would make her dinner; the sun was shining and in retrospect, was making him feel more alive. He loved being outside of prison, more then he loved most things in life. Being a free man was the best thing in the world, second only to his gorgeous wife. Michael’s broad smile crept across his face and he let his eyes fall closed as he inhaled the fresh air. His daydream left his vulnerable and he didn’t hear the beeping on the reversing forklift that smashed into his bulk and pinned him against the stack of iron behind him. He opened his mouth to cry out, but his chest was crushed between the machine and the materials and his weak cries went unheard by the operator less than three feet in front of him.

Sara moved back to triage, but paused, feeling something constrict in her chest. She glanced to the clock again, and then laid the paperwork on the desk, glancing to Sandy. "I need my break now." Without waiting for a respond, she moved to the break room, taking out her cell phone and dialling Michael. It went straight to voicemail. Feeling slightly panicky, she called Lincoln. He answered on the third ring. "Have you talked to your brother?!"

Lincoln licked the chili dip from his fingers and swallowed the half eaten chip in his mouth. "Nope. Why? What's he done now?"

Sara's breath caught in her throat. "I, uh. . . I can't get a hold of him." She cleared her throat. "You don't feel anything. You're okay?"

Lincoln frowned and muted the daytime chat show he was busy wasting his life on. “Yeah,” he said confused. “Sara, what’s going on?”

Michael's vision went blurry and he felt his head go limp against the steel. As if a weight had been lifted from his body, the forklift moved forward again and he slumped to the ground, landing awkwardly on his back. His gasped for breath, each long and shallow accompanied by a gargling sound and he suddenly couldn’t feel his legs. Shadows of people gathered around him and he tried to call out for Sara and blood that trickled from his head stung his eyes. His hearing turned into a dull mumble of hums and buzzes and his bones hurt so badly he thought he’d died.

"I . . . uh. . . " Sara cleared her throat and coughed. She glanced up towards the clock, feeling like she was going to throw up. "I have to get back to work, Linc. Try to call Michael for me, okay?" Before he could answer, she hung up.

Michael kept feeling a light tap to the side of his face every time his eyes fluttered closed, and he recognised the man kneeling above his head as the kind natured foreman everyone called Digger. He had Michael’s head clasped between him massive paws, not letting him move an inch while he continued to gasp for breath weakly. “Sa…Sa…” Michael gasped, his breathing louder then his words.

Digger shot him a glance and shouted to a panicked member of his team standing near by with his cell phone pressed to his ear. “I know Michael, hang in there buddy,” he said to Michael but his words fell on deaf ears.

Sara couldn't shake her worried feeling. She saw three more patients. She almost messed up as she stitched the patient with the head laceration, and she knew she was anything but careful. Finally, she ripped off her gloves and walked back to where her boss sat. "I can't be here right now. I have to go get lunch, and try to get a hold of my husband." When her boss confirmed that was okay, Sara scanned out and made her way towards the cafeteria.

The only part of the journey to the hospital Michael remembered was the part when the ambulance had pulled over and the young, short male paramedic had used a scalpel and a shaky hand to relieve the air from his chest. He felt better, for all of a second, and then the pain hit him. It was a minor procedure but he had no pain medication and the gush of iodine used to sterilise his skin had stained his shirt beyond washable repair. His neck brace stopped him moving and the oxygen mask over his face muffled the words that he tried so desperately to say.

“What have we got?” The ER doctor called into the back of the ambulance when the doors swung open and the tiny EMT jumped from the back. The driver hopped from his seat and rushed around the side of the vehicle with Michael’s details.

“Michael Scofield, 32, injured whilst at work on a construction site. He was crushed between a forklift and some steel bars resulting in a chest compression, fractured ribs and a collapsed lung on the right side. We had to open him up in transit. Was not wearing a hardhat, trauma to the head from impact and no sensory awareness below the waist,” the EMT rambled loudly to the entire pit crew as Michael’s gurney was wheeled from the truck and through the automatic doors of the hospital.

Sara sat in the cafeteria, half of a sandwich in front of her. She couldn't touch it. She stood, and paced for a moment, glancing to an old couple who sat alone in the corner. Taking her cell phone out of her pocket, she dialed Michael's number one more. No answer. Something swelled in her chest, and her eyes filled with tears as she dialed Lincoln's number one more.

“On three,” the tall, bald doctor announced to his team members over Michael’s battered body. “One. Two. Three.” Michael and the sheet he was laying were lifted awkwardly to a new stationary bed and the doctors fluttered around him. One held his head and shone a bright yellow light in his eyes, while a nurse used some blunt ended scissors to cut the rest of his shirt away.

“Whoa,” she breathed when his shirt fell open and his heaving, iodine stained tattoo burst into view. The doctor held his stethoscope to Michael’s chest and shot the nurse a look.

“When you’ve finished admiring this man’s tattoo,” he scolded her and she scurried away to the nurse’s station, no longer needed. “Okay,” he announced, flipping the stethoscope around his neck. “Let’s get this man some pain medication and get him to x-ray.”

Sara got a hold of Lincoln, and was nearly yelling at him when a young nurse she recognized as the new girl in ER came into the cafeteria. She turned to another nurse from PEDS and looked excited. "Oh, my God. You should see this man they just brought into the ER. He was pretty messed up, my God, his tattoo! It was over his entire torso. And arms. There were demons and angels and . . . "

Sara had heard enough. "Lincoln. How fast can you get here?"

"To the hospital? Fifteen minutes, Sara, why?" He shrugged. "Did your car break down again?" he laughed gently.

"I think Michael is here, I think. . ." Her breath caught in her throat as she patted her sides. "Fuck. I left my beeper downstairs. Lincoln, I need you here now." Without waiting for his response, she hung up and hurried to the staircase, moving quickly back down to the ER. As soon as she burst through the doors, Sandy grabbed her arm.

"Sara, I've been paging you for ten minutes. It's Michael, he --"

Before she could finish, Sara sprinted down the hallway to where a team of doctors was assembled. She tried to push past them. "What can I do, what can I do."

“Sara…” One of her co-workers who was working on Michael caught her and lifted her body back from the room. “…you need to let us work on him, okay?” he soothed.

Michael heard Sara’s voice but he couldn’t talk. His breathing increased with his desperation and he repeatedly blinked, trying to focus on her familiar figure in the room. Another nurse kept trying to remove his wedding band, much to Michael’s annoyance, and he clamped his hand down on the railing erected next to him in protest. The nurse sighed frustrated.

“Michael, we need to take your ring off so we can x-ray your chest,” she said softly, leaning over the bed rail so he could see her. Michael heaved a tear burning breath and just shook his head slowly, tightening his grip on the railing so his knuckles were white.

"You have to let me see him. You have to let me see him!" Sara struggled against whoever was holding her blindly. She didn't even try to pay attention to who it actually was. Finally, she let out a quiet breath. If she behaved erratically, they weren't going to let her anywhere near him. Stopping her struggling, she noticed it was the P.A. Jeffrey Donald removing her from the room. "Jeff. Jeff. . . " She took a deep breath. "What happened?"

Jeff relaxed his grip on her and moved her aside from the doors so that other members of the trauma team could come and go easily. “Sara, Michael had an accident at work,” he said softly and glanced over his shoulder into the room. “He was crushed between a forklift and some iron beams…” his words trailed off when she began to cry and he gave he a few seconds to compose herself. “…he wasn’t wearing his hardhat, Sara,” he said sadly, rubbing his hand up her shoulder. His words had so much more implication than he was letting her know.

“Oh my God,” Lincoln breathed as his heavy boots thundered down the hall and noticed his brother lying motionless surrounded by medical staff. Lincoln had heard Sara mention Michael and had driven through every stop sign and red light between here and the hospital.

“Sir, Sir please,” Jeff pressed his hand to Lincoln’s chest without success and had to pull it away when Lincoln barged past him into the room. He rushed to Michael’s side and the entire trauma crew stared at him a little confused.

“Michael?” Lincoln whispered and Michael’s head rolled towards his voice. His hand left the railing and he gripped at Lincoln’s hand furiously. With his other hand, he reached up and pulled the mask from his face, swallowing a dry lump down his throat and opening his mouth to talk. Lincoln leant over him, pressing his ear as close to his mouth as he could get without them touching.

“Sa…Sara,” Michael gasped.

Sara stood in the hallway completely still. She couldn't move. Jeff had gone into the room to try to remove Lincoln, and she was left alone. She wasn't sure if she was crying or not, she couldn't feel anything. Except sick. She had known something was wrong. She should have called him sooner. She should have tried harder. She should have left work to find him when she got the bad feeling. A surging pain coursed through her stomach and she crouched down in the hallway, pressing her palms to her eyes.

"Sara?" the tiny nurse poked her head around the corner of the room and offered her a weak smile. "Sara, we need Michael to let us take his wedding ring off for an x-ray but he won't." he shrugged. "Think you can help?"

Sara glanced up at the nurse, feeling fuzzy for a moment. "Yeah. . ." She finally pushed herself up off the floor and took a deep breath. She wiped at her eyes, taking another breath. "Yeah. . ."

She walked into the room slowly, squeezing Lincoln's arm. "You shouldn't be in here." She didn't hear his response as she sat on the edge of Michael's bed. Trying to compose herself, she pressed her hand to his forehead. "Baby?"

When Lincoln’s bulk left his sight and Michael heard Sara’s voice, his already laboured breathing got worse as he fought for desperate breath. He let a few tears roll down his face and stain his pillow and he tried in vain to move his restricted neck so he could see her. He blindly reached out his shaky hand towards his feet, and blinked rapidly, staring at the ceiling, waiting for her to take his hand.

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay. I'm right here. . ." Sara kept her voice low and soothing as she took his hand and squeezed it tightly. A tear escaped and she drew in a breath, glancing down his body to see how bad it was. "You're going to be okay, baby. Alright? But you have to let them help you. And you have to let me take your wedding ring, okay?"

Michael pulled his oxygen mask from his face again and opened his mouth to talk. No words came out, just the rasp of his lungs as they worked tiredly for his much needed breath. "I..." he croaked, gasping for even more breath at just saying one word. "I...can't. I promised..." he let the words come from his mouth in nothing more then breathy clicks and he let his eyes flutter closed with a small smile. Trust Michael, at the most inopportune time, to remember the time he had promised never, ever to take his wedding band off again.

"Michael. . ." Sara shook her head and leaned over to where she was sure he could see her. "No, Michael. It's okay. You have to. And you have to get better." She reached for his hand, slowly twisting his wedding band off. "It's okay. I'll keep it for you."

Michael nodded and let his hand go limp in hers. His chest burnt suddenly and he groaned, pinching his eyes closed and trying to hold his breath while it passed.

“Okay, Sara. You need to go,” Jeff said gently, moving beside Michael and placing the oxygen mask back over his nose when his saturation level dropped and the monitor began to beep behind him.

"I can't go," Sara told Jeff firmly, shaking her head. She turned to watch the monitors next to him, trying to gauge what was going on with his body. "I can help, I can do this." She heard a doctor from the other side of the room asking Michael if he could feel him touching his feet. She swiveled around. "Of course he can feel it!" She turned back to Jeff. "Have you given him any pain killers? Have you called up to X-Ray? Should they start prepping an OR?"

"Sara..." Jeff said slowly, gently taking her by the elbow. "You can't do this," he shook his head. "It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to Michael."

Lincoln poked his head around the door and watched one of the other doctors poking a thick needle into Michael's feet. "What are you doing to him?" he said in a deep growl, his voice catching Sara's attention.

"Yes, I can do this." Sara met Jeff's eyes and bit hard on her quivering lip. "He is my husband. I have to be in here. I have to be in here. . ." She glanced up when Lincoln's voice cut through. She stepped towards him, pressing a hand to his chest. "You shouldn't be in here, Linc."

"What, because you got MD after your name, you get to stay in here? I don't think so," Lincoln snapped at her. "He's my brother, Sara!" he said enraged, his last words catching in his throat.

"Dr. Donald," one of the doctors said gently but caught the attention of Sara and Lincoln too. "There is no feeling below his waist," the young doctor said glumly.

"What...what does that mean?" Lincoln said desperately. "What does that mean?!" he bellowed, rushing back into the room.

Sara's breath caught in her throat when she heard what the doctor said. She stood for a moment, ignoring everyone, keeping her gaze on Michael. Finally, after a couple seconds, she couldn't do it anymore. Pushing passed Lincoln and the two nurses in the doorway, she rushed from the room.

"Sir," Jeff said assertively to Lincoln. The men were about the same height but Lincoln outweighed Dr. Donald by at least twice as much. Jeff gulped and continued when he had his full attention. "Sir, unless you leave right now, I’m going to call security." Lincoln clenched his jaw and the muscles twitched visibly along the side of his face. Jeff felt a rush of adrenaline surge through him but he stood his ground. Lincoln gave Michael's motionless body one more glance and he backed out of the room to find Sara.

Sara had found an empty waiting room. Her hair was falling out of her ponytail, so she pulled it out the rest of the way. She leaned forward, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her forehead on them. Her hair fell around her, masking her face, as she finally let herself sob.

Lincoln followed Sara into the darkened room and scanned the seats for her body. He didn’t see her immediately because she was slumped to the ground hugging her knees. “Sara?” he called softly, catching her attention. “I’m sorry I shouted at you back there,” he offered with an ashamed hanging of his head.

"I'm not mad at you. . ." Sara glanced up at him, trying desperately to get control of herself. It wasn't working. A sob racked her body and she laid her head on her knees again. "He wasn't wearing his hard hat. They said he was uh. . ." She choked on her words. "Crushed. . . crushed between um iron beams? And a forklift."

“Oh, Sara,” Lincoln breathed, moving to her side and sitting beside her on the floor. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him, holding her against his chest while she cried. “It probably sounds worse than it is,” Lincoln offered, not really believing his own words. “He’ll be okay,” he nodded, pressing his lips to her hair and staring at the drinks machine in front of him. “He’ll be okay.”

"He can't feel. . ." Sara trailed off, wrapping her arm around Lincoln's waist and sobbing into his shirt. "He can't feel and I . . ." She pushed herself away from Lincoln, shaking her head and moving to stand up. "I need to go. I need to get back in there. I need to help him."

“Sara, wait…” Lincoln scrambled to his feet and grabbed her elbow. “Look at you,” he said with a sigh. “You’re crying, you can’t even compose an entire sentence properly,” he smoothed his hands over her shoulders and pulled her to him again. “He’ll be okay, I promise,” Lincoln whispered against her head.

"He'll know I'm not there!" Sara mumbled into his chest. She fought for a second but he held her to him. "He'll know that I left. He'll know I'm not there for him." She let out another sob. "He needs me there, Linc."

"He knows," Lincoln breathed, stroking her hair against her head and holding her against him. "Michael knows you are there for him, every single day of his life." Lincoln felt his own sob bubble in his throat but he held it back.

Sara allowed herself to cry for a few more minutes, finally relaxing into Lincoln's embrace. She pulled away and rubbing at her face, reaching into her pocket. Taking out his wedding band, she slid it on her thumb, rubbing her finger over the cool platinum. "We fought once and he got mad. And drunk. And he tried to take it off and give it back to me. . . He promised he'd never take it off again."

Lincoln gave Sara a loving glare and cupped her face in his hands. “Sara, I know Michael would never take it off unless you said he could,” He nodded with a little smile. “He’ll come through this, and you’ll be okay,” he nodded. “We all will. And I’ll get some nephews and nieces yet,” he chuckled, pulling her to him again and resting his chin to the top of her head.

"Promise?" Sara sniffled and smiled softly. She rested her head to Lincoln's chest and let out a quiet sigh. "Today someone asked me if I had any children."

“Oh God,” he said quickly, pulling her from his chest and holding her at arm's length. “You didn’t tell them about me did you?” he quirked an eyebrow but before she could reply, Dr. Donald walked in and greeted them both with a smile.

”I have good news,” he announced, taking a seat. “Michael has not broken his spine, so I suspect his paralysis is temporary. He most likely has some bruising to his spinal cord and paralysis is not unlikely in the event of spinal trauma, and will heal in its own time,” he nodded reassuringly towards Sara. “His CT showed no abnormalities in his brain so I don’t think he hit that too hard. Just a minor flesh wound that we stitched. His chest injuries were the worst. He broke seven ribs, two of which punctured his lung and that’s why he couldn’t breathe properly,” the doctor addressed Lincoln with a nod. “He’s in surgery right now.”

Sara let out a breath of air and nodded slowly. The injuries were bad, but not anywhere near what they could have been. "Do you need me to fill out any paperwork?" She cleared her throat. "How long will he be in surgery? Will I be able to see him as soon as he's out?"

Jeff shook his head slowly and reached to rest his hand on Sara’s. “You can do the paperwork later. Michael will be out of surgery soon. We rushed him in as soon as you guys left so he’ll be okay to see in a little while. I’ll page you,” Jeff said with a nod, and then left them again.

Sara turned to Lincoln, feeling slightly wobbly. She smiled and before she knew what was happening burst into tears again. Pressing her face into her hands she whispered, "I'm sorry."

Lincoln frowned at her and tilted his head confused. “Why are you sorry?” He asked gently, rubbing his arm over the cotton of her scrubs.

"Because I'm an emotional wreck," Sara whispered. "I do this every day, I see this every day. I've seen Michael hurt before, Linc, but. . ." She felt something squeeze inside her and she pressed her hand to her chest. "If anything ever happens to him. . ."

"Sara..." Lincoln breathed, grabbing her and crushing her to his chest again. "It won't," he said confidently. "And God forbid anything ever does? You can marry me," he laughed, trying to lighten the mood between them. He gave her a smile as she pulled away from him and wiped her tears. "I'm very good in bed," he smirked modestly. "And you've already seen my penis."

Sara laughed loudly, shaking her head. It felt good. Her laughter continued on for a moment, and she trailed off with a sigh. "Oh, Linc. I think you might be a little out of practice."

“Compared to you and Michael, yes. But I can make it up, I swear,” he grinned. He flashed a glance at the clock behind Sara and frowned a little. “How long did that doctor say again? I’m going for a coffee, do you want one?”

"He said it wouldn't be long," Sara told him, shaking her head. "I don't think I could keep anything down right now. Thanks though." She smiled at him, hoping he understood her underlying meaning.

Lincoln gave her arm one last squeeze before brushing past her and out of the room, leaving it silent and void of all contact as Sara paced around it. The silence was soon shattered by the high pitched beep of her pager, alerting her to its message on her waist.

Sara jumped a little, slightly startled by the shrill beeping. Grabbing her pager, she read the message, and then hurried from the room. She moved past the elevator and ran up the stairs two floors to the ICU recovery unit. She quickly found Jeff. "Can I see him now?"

Jeff nodded but stopped her from rushing into his room with a gentle touch to her elbow. “Sara, I know you’ve seen this before but not on your family, so prepare yourself, okay?” he said in a whisper. “Michael has an external chest tube so we can monitor his lung repair,” he nodded at her with every word, making sure she understood. “Try not to freak out,” he smiled weakly and pushed open the door.

Sara took a deep breath as she entered Michael's sterile room. As hard as she tried she couldn't stop herself from crying as she walked slowly to the bed. She sat down gently, exhaling a slow breath. His eyes were closed, and the monitor to her left alerted her to the steady rhythm of his heart. She sat quietly, allowing it to assure her for a moment before reaching over and smoothing her hand over his cheek. "Oh, baby. . ."

Michael’s body felt heavy from the anaesthesia and he couldn’t lift his eyes open at the sound of Sara’s voice. He was still waking up from his surgery but his muscles were in a deep state of sleep still. He could hear the distant beep of a machine and feel warmth against his cheek. His legs and feet felt cold and distant too, and he wasn’t sure why they felt so different until he tried to move them and couldn’t.

"I don't know if you can hear me . . ." Sara's voice trailed off and she continued to stroke his cheek. "But I'd like to think you can. So I'm just going to keep talking to you." She reached down, squeezing his hand gently. "You look good, baby. I love you so much. Just wait until I can take you home. . . I'm going to wait on you hand and foot. You are going to get so spoiled."

Michael tried to smile at her words but he couldn’t. He tried to grip at her hand but his fingers wouldn’t work. His body began to pinch with pain, especially on one side of his chest and his eyebrows twitched and knitted together with a frown. His eyelids fluttered and tried to open, falling shut a few times before finally opening and seeing Sara next to him with his hand pressed against hers and her forehead resting against the bundle of digits. “Sara…” he breathed in a croaky voice and lightly squeezed her hand.

"Michael. . ." Sara turned her head to meet his eyes and a fresh batch of tears found their way to the surface. A few fell down her cheeks, and a smile lit up her face. "Look at you." She brushed her fingertips across his forehead. "I love you. I love you so, so much. How are you feeling?"

Michael swallowed hard, desperately trying to moisten his throat. “What happened?” he mumbled groggily, searching the room with his eyes and deducing he was in the hospital.

Sara wiped her eyes and smiled softly at him. "You had an accident at work, baby. You don't remember it at all?" She ran a hand through his soft hair. "You're going to be okay though. I'm here. Lincoln's around here somewhere too."

"At work?" he gulped again. "I...I was crushed by a forklift?" he asked slowly, wincing a little in pain.

"Yes, you were," Sara whispered, nodding slowly. "You broke a few ribs and punctured your lung." She forced a small smile. "If you'd wanted my attention you could have just said so."

“I can’t feel my legs,” Michael said a little panicked and the steady beeping of his heart began to race. “Sara…” he said pleadingly, rolling his head towards her and tears pricking up in his eyes. His lungs burnt from his sobs and he pressed his face into the pillow because of the pain.

"Hey, hey, hey. . ." Sara cupped his face in her hands and looked at him seriously. "They're okay. You're okay. You can walk. It's just a shock, Michael, and all the medicine you're doped up on." She leaned him closer to him. "Do you understand me?"

Michael nodded and reached up to grip at her hand with his and held it to his cheek. His IV and some other wires moved with his arm, rattling against the bed frame. “I’m okay,” he said with a nod, swallowing a lump of tears. “I love you,” he whispered through a final sob and smoothed his thumb over her hand against his cheek. He let her hand rest on his chest while he wiped at his mouth a little, trying to remove the taste of surgery from his lips. “Where’s my ring?” he frowned at his hand, noticing the absence of his band immediately.

"I love you so much. . ." Sara returned softly. Being strong for him was easier than she had imagined it would be. When he asked about his ring, she smiled softly, pulling her hand away and wiggling her thumb at him. "They had to take it off so you could go into X-Ray. You put up quite a fight, Mr. Scofield."

Michael laughed a little and then tensed from the pain shooting through his chest. “I promised my wife I wouldn’t ever take it off, Dr. Scofield,” he smiled gently, clutching his hand to his chest when another pain racked his body. “I always keep my promises.”

"I know you do, baby," Sara whispered, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. She took the ring off and held it up. "I guess you can have it back. If you still want to be my husband that is?"

“Of course I do,” he croaked, holding out his hand so Sara could slip it back onto his finger. “I need someone to take care of me,” he smiled softly at her and then stroked her hair behind her ear and rested his hand to her cheek.

"I'm always here to take care of you. . ." Sara trailed off. He was looking better. He was smiling and she felt something inside her chest squeeze. "God, Michael. I was so scared. . ."

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, smoothing his thumb over her tear stained cheek. Her now forgot tears were enough to make him feel guilty. “It was my own fault. I shouldn’t daydream at work,” he grinned, swallowing and gasping a little again. “God, this hurts,” he motioned to his chest tube, dangling from a large white bandage and filled with a little bloody fluid.

"Don't say you're sorry," Sara whispered, shaking her head. "This wasn't your fault, baby." She smiled softly when he spoke of his pain, feeling the tears rush to her eyes again. "I know it hurts baby, but you're going to get better. Oh, baby, you know how much I love you right?"

"I know," he nodded pulling her head to his and resting their foreheads together. "I love you so much," he breathed opening his eyes and looking up into hers. "I'm going to get better and show you," he choked out through new sobs. "I swear to God."

Sara placed kisses all over his face, trying her best to kiss away all his tears. A sob wracked her body and she gave up trying to control herself. "You show me all the time. All the time, baby. I never doubt how much you care about me."

Michael tilted his face up to hers and pressed his lips to Sara’s. He probably tasted like the sleeping gas but he didn’t care. He needed to kiss her, to feel her lips on his and to feel like more than just a lucky survivor. He needed to feel like he belonged.

Sara broke away from the kiss, smiling sweetly at him. "Hey, you. You trying to start something? You better behave because you are in no position for me to crawl into this hospital bed and do you." She brushed her fingertips over his forehead. "No matter how badly I want to."

“Maybe later,” Michael whispered through a pained smirk.


	29. Chapter 29

While Lincoln had gone to the pharmacy to get Michael’s painkillers, Sara was helping Michael dress. The doctor’s had been around early this morning and painfully removed his chest tube, stating him fit enough to go home. Miraculously, just over one week after his accident, Michael was healed enough to head home. Yet again, his tattoo had been subject to surgery and the lower half of his devil now had the remnant of healing scar tissue sliced through it. With a wince, Michael lifted his arm slowly, only managing to lift it forty-five degrees before the pain kicked in.

Sara glanced at the Chicago Cubs t-shirt Lincoln had brought Michael, giving a disdainful sigh. Lincoln had brought Michael some going-home clothes, and Sara was less than impressed. She should have done it herself, but she had barely stepped foot in their house since Michael's accident. She had ate at the hospital, showered at the hospital, slept at the hospital. She was surprised Michael hadn't gotten sick of her yet. She tried to slowly pull the t-shirt on him. "I supposed it would have been too much for him to grab a shirt with buttons?"

Michael let out a frustrated breath when the shirt pulled against his bandage. “Buttons are reserved for the ex-con who can only button half of them,” he informed her with a smile. “The rest of us have to make do with…” he paused, flinching sideways when a pain racked his body and his side became warm. He lifted the side of the shirt gingerly and noticed the deep red seeping through his bandage. “God damn…” he cursed, relaxing back onto the pillows, panting from exertion.

"I'm sorry. . ." Sara murmured, rubbing her hand up and down his arm. "I'm sorry." She hated to see him in so much pain that it almost made her sick to her stomach. He hardly ever complained though, and she almost wished he would. They hadn't talked much about the accident yet. Reaching for the buzzer, she whispered, "I'll get someone in here to change that."

Michael slid his hand down her arm, barely touching her skin before her caught her hand in his and rolled his head towards hers. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, letting their fingers fumble with each other. “You can blame Lincoln for making me stretch,” he gave her a small smile when his brother returned clutching a white paper bag.

“Mike, there’s like, enough drugs here to start your own pharmacy!” Lincoln declared, waving the bag around in the air. “Nice shirt,” he quipped with a grin.

“I am in pain, Linc,” he declared matter of factly. “And thanks to your shirt, I need this changed,” he lifted the shirt again and the darkened patch of blood had crept across the entire bandage. “I busted a seem stretching.”

Sara brought Michael's fingers to her lips and kissed them before snatching the pharmacy bag out of Lincoln's hand. There were antibiotics and pain relievers. . . everything seemed to be right. Sara sat the bag down on the nightstand and smiled at Michael, glancing towards the door, waiting for a nurse to come in. "Looks like you're going to be pretty doped up, Scofield. Too bad your too hurt for me to have my way with you." She glanced back to the pharmacy bag. "Maybe we'd better ration them. That way when we go broke from all this time off work, we can sell the pills on the black market."

A small chuckle left Michael’s body but it was all he could manage in his weakened state. In the week he had been in hospital he had lost so much weight his watch slipped off his skin and his muscles were practically asleep. “You don’t have to stay off work to look after me,” he offered softly, reaching out his hand and silently asking her to help him sit up so he could lift the back of his shirt for the bandage change. “I’ll be fine,” he choked out with a pained grimace.

Sara rubbed his back softly, keeping hold of his hand as the nurse whisked around the room, changing Michael's bandage both quickly and efficiently. "Of course I'm staying off work, Michael. Until you're all better. I've already talked to everyone here, and it's not a big deal." She smiled at him. "I want to take care of you."

Michael stayed sitting and moved him legs to dangle over the edge of the bed. He pulled Sara towards him weakly with a gentle tug and rested his hand to her hip when she collided with the edge of the bed. He tilted his head back and looked up at her with a relieved smile. “What would I do without you?” he whispered.

Sara smiled at the nurse, who left the room quietly with a nod. She brushed her fingers through Michael's soft hair before shrugging. Leaning down, she placed a soft kiss to his forehead. Something inside her squeezed, and she whispered softly, "You'll never have to find out."

Lincoln cleared his throat behind them and interrupted the moment. Michael turned his head and glared at him before turning back to Sara with a grin. “Can’t we get a puppy? They are less demanding,” he smirked.

"That is a good idea. We'll have to keep that in mind. . ." Sara pressed another kiss to Michael's head, then glanced over at Linc. "Keeping this one around does have it's benefits though. He's going to drive us home, and he's going to bring me dinner because I'm going to be too busy taking care of you to make my own."

“I am?” Lincoln asked confused, pausing as he stuffed some of Michael’s things into a duffel bag. Sara quirked an eyebrow at him and he sighed. “I mean, of course I am,” he rolled his eyes and stuffed the clothes into the bag.

Michael leant forward and rested his forehead to Sara’s stomach and let out a sigh. “You know,” he mumbled into her top in a croaky voice. “I’m really looking forward to real food again,” he smiled, inhaling Sara’s scent and warmth he had been denied for over a week. While he was healing they were not allowed to sleep in the same bed, in case cross contamination caused an infection in his open wounds.

"I'm really looking forward to being in the same bed as you again," Sara murmured, pressing a kiss to Michael's head before resting her forehead against the top of it. She stood for a moment, her eyes closed, rubbing her hands slowly up and down Michael's back. She didn't care that he smelled like hospital, and hadn't had a real shower in a week, or that they were making a small scene in front of Lincoln. It felt too good to be in his embrace again, no matter how weak it was. Before she could stop them, a fresh batch of hot tears rushed to her eyes.

“Hey, Sara? What’s wrong?” Lincoln noted dutifully and Michael lifted his head slowly.

“Hey…” he soothed when her cheeks became tear stained. “Why are you crying?” He tilted his head with empathy and gave her a quick smile. “I can’t lift my arm to wipe them away,” he said jokingly. “So, you’ll have to stop.”

"I'm fine. . ." Sara shook her head. She hastily wiped her tears. "I'm fine. It's just. . ." A small sob bubbled out before she could stop it and she pulled away from Michael, burying her face in her hands for a moment. "I'm fine."

“No you’re not,” Michael insisted concerned. He turned to Lincoln and gave a quick nod towards Sara. Lincoln moved around the edge of the bed and bundled Sara into a hug, smoothing his hands over her shoulders. “What’s wrong?” Michael repeated.

”Yeah, Sara,” Lincoln echoed his brother’s words. “Are you crying because now you have to take him home and we can’t be alone anymore?” A small smile graced his lips and he winked at his brother jokingly.

Michael frowned. “You’re a first class ass, Lincoln.”

Sara laughed quietly, and shook her head, pulling away from Lincoln's hug. "I'm fine. Really." She wiped her eyes again and rolled her eyes at herself and shook her head again. "I'm good." Clearing her throat, she motioned towards the door. "I'll go see what's taking so long."

Michael glared at Lincoln when Sara left. “What?” Lincoln objected innocently but Michael just shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Sara thinks I’m funny,” he pouted, moving to perch on the edge of the bed next to his brother.

“Yeah,” Michael laughed. “That’s what worries me,” he grinned, fiddling with the plastic hospital name tag on his wrist. A few seconds later Sara returned with a wheelchair and Michael sighed, mustering the energy for the inevitable pain of moving from the bed into it. Lincoln braced his brother on his elbow and gently pulled him from the bed where he stood on the floor with a shaky stance. Michael held his breath as best he could, riding out the pain that prickled up his side as Lincoln lowered him into the chair and lifted his legs into the foot rests for him.

”There,” Lincoln proclaimed. “Now I won’t have to carry your ass to the car.”

Sara rolled her eyes at the playful barb and moved next to Michael, kneeling down next to the wheelchair. "How do you feel? That didn't pull your sutures again, did it?" She slid into doctor mode as she lifted up his shirt and motioned for him to let her check his bandage. "Do you want to take one of your pills now?"

Michael looked down as Sara smoothed her hand over his bandage. “No, I think I’m okay,” he panted. “I’ll take some when I get home.” Michael held her hand and stopped her from standing for a second. “While you’re at my level…” he smirked and pressed his lips to hers, cupping her face in his hand and running his hand through her hair.

Sara kissed him back softly, before pulling away and smiling. She pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Don't get yourself too worked up." She stood and smiled at Lincoln, reaching to grab Michael's bags. "Can you push him out?"

“Sure,” Lincoln grinned wickedly and grabbed the handles.

“Slowly,” Michael warned him, suddenly feeling very nervous. Michael thanked the hospital staff as he left the reception area and was wheeled towards Lincoln’s car with only a few low engine noises from his brother. Sara helped him pull himself into the car and he relaxed into the back seat with another hefty sigh. “This moving thing is so much more tiring when you have no energy,” he breathed, letting his head fall back against the seat and his eyes flutter closed.

Sara settled into the backseat next to Michael. She kept her body turned to his and brushed the back of her knuckles gently across his forehead. She glanced towards Lincoln. "Go slow. Do not hit any bumps." Turning back to Michael, she lowered her voice to a soothing tone. "It's okay, baby. Once we get you home you can take your pills and go straight to bed. I'll make you whatever you want if you think you feel like eating tonight."

Lincoln set the car in motion and began the tedious journey home, being careful to avoid anything that may have been classed as a bump. Michael just sat with his eyes closed and his body aching. Even the rumble of the engine hurt as it ricocheted through his body and tingled his bruises. “I have to take this shirt off when we get home,” Michael said suddenly, rolling his head against the back seat and catching Sara’s gaze. He gently lifted his hand and laid it on her thigh lovingly. “It’s really not helping me breathe.”

Sara moved her hand down to gently massage his shoulder. She nodded slowly, "We'll get it off you as soon as we get home, baby." She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "I have half a mind to cut if off of you. I don't want you to pull your stitches again."

“Hey!” Lincoln objected from the front seat. “That shirt cost me enough! There will be no cutting of any Cubs shirts today!”

"Lincoln!" Sara snapped, turning away from Michael and facing him. "Would it have used to many brain cells for you to have grabbed a shirt he could have slid on and off?" Sara let out a scoff and turned her head. "Do you really want him to pop his stitches and us have to turn around and take him right back to the hospital? Why don't you take your brothers feelings into consideration for once?"

Lincoln just mumbled his reply in the front seat and Michael smiled. "I'll buy myself a new one when I’m better, Linc. I promise."

"Yeah you'd better," Lincoln scoffed and pulled the car into halt at the curb by their house. "Home, sweet home," he said glumly, yanking open his door and stepping out.

Michael laughed a little and smiled sweetly at Sara. "You pissed off the puppy," he scolded lightly. "Now he'll bring you something nasty for dinner."

Sara hurriedly got out of the car and helped Michael out. He leaned almost all his weight on her, and it was too much for her to take. She glanced over at Lincoln, who was still pouting. "A little help would be nice." She rolled her eyes. "God, Linc, with everything Michael has ever done for you, you think you'd be a little more willing to please here."

Lincoln moved to take over from Sara and help his brother up the steps to their house. Michael grimaced with each step, gripping onto Lincoln for dear life, only being able to imagine the incomprehensible pain should his legs fail him and he fall. “Next time…” Lincoln grunted as they reached the top. “…Don’t stand behind the forklift.”

Sara paused, her key halfway into the doorknob. "Don't talk to him like that!" She bit hard on her bottom lip and finished unlocking the door. She rushed into the house, tossing her keys down with a bang, not really caring where they end up. "Would it kill you to just be decent for maybe five minutes, Linc? To maybe not be an ass and maybe not make jokes about something like this? Huh?" Without waiting for a response, she went into the kitchen. She dropped Michael's duffel to the floor with a thud and banged around as she got his pills ready, and a bottle of water.

“Wow,” Lincoln breathed as he helped Michael sit down on the edge of his bed. Sara was still downstairs getting his painkillers ready and he swung his legs up onto the bed with a flinch. “Sara is really pissed off with me, huh?”

”Nah…” Michael breathed through gritted teeth. “…She just worries too much, and sometimes, jokes don’t help,” Michael said softly, mustering all the energy he could to drag himself up the bed. He let out a groan as he relaxed onto the pillows and felt his body become heavy.

“Want me to do anything else before I go?” Lincoln offered, smoothing the comforter around his brother’s feet. “I have some stuff to do before I bring dinner around later.”

Michael shook his head and let his tired eyelids fall closed. “No. Thanks man,” he whispered in a gruff voice.

”No problem buddy,” Lincoln smiled and left, passing Sara on the stairs and quickly apologising, kissing her on the cheek and telling her he would be back later with some Chinese food.

Sara let out a quiet breath when Lincoln stopped her on the stairs. She laid her head against his chest briefly before pulling away. She mumbled an apology, and thanked him, squeezing his hand before moving the rest of the way upstairs. She moved slowly into the bedroom, smiling softly at Michael. "Think you can down these for me?"

“Hmm?” Michael peeled his eyes open and looked at her with a smile. “Oh yeah, I’d be really glad to,” he said slowly because his side was still throbbing. He lifted his hand weakly and cupped it ready for the pills to be put there and took the glass of water Sara offered with the other hand. He threw his head back weakly and threw the pills into his mouth, quickly gulping a lump of water and pushing them down his throat. He handed her back the water and panted a little. “Think you could get me out of this shirt now?” he begged, tugging at the collar of the grey shirt.

Sara watched as he took the pills, then took back the water, setting it on the bedside table. She reached in the drawer and removed a pair of scissors, sitting down on the bed next to him. Slowly she started the cut, starting at the hem of his shirt. She kept her eyes down. "Sorry I got so snappy."

"It's okay. Lincoln knows you don't mean it," he offered quietly suddenly feeling the relief in his chest as it was free to expand easier without the fabric constricting his skin. "He knows you're just looking out for me. It's hard for Lincoln to see someone ill, after everything with mom. He knew she was sick all along and he held that on his own. Joking helps him cope," Michael assured her with a slight cough. He felt it coming before it left his mouth and he grabbed at his side painfully. He felt the familiar warmth seep from his skin again and he flopped his head back onto the pillows with a sigh. "How long will this happen for?" He asked frustrated by his body’s almost constant bleeding.

"Awhile still, probably," Sara murmured. She felt even worse after Michael's mention of their mother, and she made a mental note to apologize to him later. She finished the cut, helping him slide out of the shirt, and tossing it the floor. "I can change the bandage for you though, so don't worry."

“Thank you,” Michael breathed for about the millionth time today. He was so grateful his wife was a doctor sometimes, and most definitely at this moment in time. “I can’t wait to have you next to me tonight,” Michael smiled with his eyes closed. “I’ve missed you so much.”

"You'll probably be so out of it you won't even notice I'm here. . . " Sara brushed her fingers across his forehead and smiled softly. She leaned into kiss his cheek, breathing a silent sigh of relief. He was home. "No cuddling, Mr. Scofield."

Michael gave her a raised eyebrow and a smile. “Don’t worry, you’d hear my painful cries if I tried to move. Sick and injured, I am. Stealthy in bed at night, I am not.”

Sara laughed softly and cupped his face in her hands. Slowly, she rubbed his cheek with her thumb. "You should get some rest, baby. Do you need anything else?"

Michael shook his head and felt his eyelids get heavier at the mere mention of rest. Being asleep for most of the week while his body wasted away in a hospital bed had made him so tired he couldn’t even remember not feeling so drained. “I’m good,” he droned slowly, letting his eyes flutter closed. “You should get some rest too. I know you’ve had like zero sleep all week,” he said with a sigh.

"I'm fine," Sara whispered, leaving her hand on his cheek. "I don't need sleep. I'd rather just sit here." She leaned closer to him, brushing her lips across his forehead. "You go to sleep, baby."

Michael reply was an incoherent grunt as his body fully relaxed and went limp against the mattress.

It had just began to get dark when Lincoln skipped up the steps to Michael and Sara’s house with the inviting smell of Chinese food wafting from two plain white carrier bags in his hands. He rummaged in his pockets for some keys and let himself in, heading straight to the kitchen to retrieve the chopsticks he knew Sara kept in the draw. He found her sitting in the lounge with her feet up on the coffee table and a book she had been trying to read flattened to her chest. She had her eyes closed and Lincoln stopped to smile at her before her dropped the food to the coffee table with a rustle. “Wakey Wakey sleeping beauty,” he grinned. “I come baring food.”

Sara awoke with a start, sitting up and letting the book fall from her chest. She glanced around the room, then to Lincoln, trying to get a hold of her surroundings. Finally, she blinked several times and yawned. "Wow, I was out for about an hour." She looked at the food on the table and offered Lincoln a soft smile. "Thank you."

Lincoln handed her a box that he had opened and shoved the chopsticks into with a smile. “My pleasure. Now eat up. I swear o god you both look so thin living on that hospital food all week,” he nodded sternly and reclined in his chair and tucked into his own box of dark brown chow mien noodles.

Sara took the chopsticks, swirling them through the chicken for several silent moments before popping a piece in her mouth. She chewed quietly, then swallowed, glancing over to Lincoln. "I'm sorry, Linc. Really. I got so caught up in what it was like for me to see Michael so hurt that I didn't even think about how it was affecting you."

Lincoln screwed up his nose and shook his head. “Forget it. I have,” he smiled, stuffing a pinch of noodles into his mouth hungrily. “How is he, anyway? More importantly, how are you?” he gave her a knowing look. “You’ve run yourself into the ground this week.”

"I'm fine. I'm great. . ." Sara nodded slowly, and continued to pick at her chicken. "I'm not even tired, really. I could. . . do this for another two weeks easily. Three even."

Lincoln swallowed the mass of chewed food in his mouth and pointed his sticks at her menacingly. “Yeah, but you’d look like shit,” he said with a grin.

"I already look like shit, I'm sure," Sara shook her head. "I don't think I've actually looked in a mirror in about three days. I'm sure I'm lovely."

“You’re still gorgeous to me,” Lincoln shrugged, looking down into his noodles. “You don’t happen to have a sister do you? Twin isn’t essential,” he smirked looking back up to her with a laugh.

Sara laughed quietly and shook her head. "Oh, Lincoln. If only. Then we really could be one big happy family." She set her box down on the coffee table and grabbed a blanket. "I think I've been around Michael for too long."

Lincoln frowned and licked some soy sauce from his lips, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and inspected it for remnants of food. “Why do you say that?”

"Because I can't focus on the fact that he's upstairs asleep, and that he's going to be fine. . ." Sara shook her head as she relaxed back into the couch cushions. "I can only think what if both his lungs had been punctured. What if he had been bending over to pick something up at just the wrong second and his skull had been fractured. What if he had lost too much blood?"

“What if…” Lincoln said slowly, moving to sit next to her on the couch. “…you stopped worrying about what didn’t happen and start thanking whoever you pray to that he is upstairs asleep and you don’t have to marry his brother?” He smiled, smoothing his hands over her knees. “The whole Michael-Sara lifestyle doesn’t have to be so dramatic anymore, you know,” he said firmly. “The Lincoln-Sara one? Well…” he trailed off with a hearty laugh.

Sara smiled, leaning into Lincoln and letting him wrap her in a hug. "It feels like it's just one dramatic thing after the other." She closed her eyes and sighed quietly. "You wouldn't want to marry me anyway, Linc. I'd bore you."

“Ha!” Lincoln let out a blurted laugh. “No. You wouldn’t,” He shook his head with a smirk and a filthy laugh. “You’re a doctor and a man has fantasies you know. You couldn’t handle me anyway,” he said, averting his gaze to the ceiling. “There’d be none of this slow, make love to me until morning sex I know Michael is so into,” he laughed again.

Sara opened her mouth slightly, then pulled away smacking him lightly on the chest. "Michael does not talk to you about our sex life. Does he?" She moved to clear the food off the coffee table and paused before leaving the room, bending over so she was eye level with Linc. "Believe me. Michael knows how to take hold of the head board and take me for a good ride."

Lincoln’s laughter erupted through he lounge and he slapped his knee playfully. “Not like I could,” he called after her towards the kitchen with a smirk and flopped back against the cushions. “And no,” he called, leaning forward and plucking the TV guide off the table. “Michael does not talk about his sex life. That’s more guarded than…well, you tell me more, put it that way.”

Sara laughed as she walked back into the lounge. "Have you had sex lately, Linc? You look like you could use some." She brushed her hair out of her face, then glanced towards the clock. "Maybe I should go check on him."

“No,” Lincoln sighed heavily. “I haven’t had sex in a while. You offering?” he asked hopefully with a smirked. Sara gave him a roll of her eyes and he crossed his arms. “Didn’t think so,” he huffed dramatically. “Fine. Go check on your husband…who can’t have sex might I add,” he giggled.

"Don't rub it in," Sara gave Lincoln a mock glare and turned towards the stairs. "Really, I'm going to get so lonely I might have to call you up." Without waiting for Lincoln's playful response, she hurried up the stairs, peeking her head around the side of the bedroom door.

Michael didn’t stir. His chest gently rose with each long, relaxed breath and fell silently. He was still and at peace, pain free in his slumber. One of his hands rested against his bruised chest, his purple and green skin hidden beneath his massive paw that still had a few scrapes and a raised bruise from his IV. He had not moved since Sara left him, seemingly stuck on his back while he snored softly on top of the comforter.

Sara walked slowly into the bedroom. She watched him sleep for several seconds before sinking down on the mattress next to him. She sat for a moment, then whispered, "I love you." Standing up, she picked up a blanket from the foot of the bed and laid it across him. Gently, she brushed her lips across Michael's before moving to go back downstairs.

Lincoln looked up from the TV guide as she padded back down the creaky stairs. “Ah, the horny returns,” he smiled.

Sara rolled her eyes and collapsed back down on the couch, shaking her head. "I'm not even horny. I do think about more than sex, you know."

“Pfft!” Lincoln dismissed playfully. “As if. I bet, when you’re at work, you’re all like, ‘look at my sexy scrubs’,” he leapt from the couch and danced about in front of her pretending to be a sexually frustrated version of her. “…‘With my sexually frustrated red hair’…” he pretended toss the hair over his shoulder and planted his hands on his hips. “Hi…” he extended his hand to her with his best sexy look. “I’m Dr. Scofield,” he breathed before bursting into laughter.

Sara burst into laughter and rolled her eyes. Picking up a throw pillow, she tossed it at him before narrowing her eyes. "Calm it down, Burrows. Now that I've used you for what I need, I'll throw your ass to the curb."

Lincoln caught the pillow and threw it back to the couch. He pressed his hand to his heart and slumped onto the couch next to her. "Ouch, Scofield. Ouch," he grinned. When his laughter faded and the room fell silent he turned and looked at her. "Hey, you know Michael is the luckiest guy in the world, right?" he said sincerely. "I wish it was me in that bed right now, and he was down here complimenting my wife," he smiled sweetly.

Sara tilted her head to the side and paused. Arching her eyebrow she smiled. "Alright. What is it you want?"

“Nothing!” Lincoln screeched. “What, I can’t compliment my sister-in-law now?” He quirked an eyebrow at her before crossing his arms and turning from her. “Some people,” he huffed but his smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Sara smirked and looked over to him, nudging him softly with her shoulder. She looked over at him and smiled softly. "I'm the lucky one, Linc. I got the whole package when I married Michael. I'm lucky you came included."

Lincoln smiled proudly and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her to him and kissing the top of her head. “It hurts sometimes you know, being the puppy,” he let a chuckle escape his lips. “When I see what you and Mike have, I’m jealous. And I’ll admit that because I love you both and admitting I am means what you guys have is real. Everlasting,” he smoothed his hand up her arm and held her to him.

"You can have it too, Linc," Sara whispered. "You know that, right? You can find someone who makes you feel complete. You don't have to be scared of falling in love again, you know that, right?" She squeezed his arm. "And you know Michael and I love you and we need you."

Lincoln’s eye widened and he smirked at her with a quirked eyebrow. “For like a threesome?” he grinned.

Sara picked up another pillow and whacked him again. "Seriously. You can never just let me be serious, can you?"

Lincoln dodged the pillow attack feebly and grabbed it from her grasp. "No, I can't," he said with a hint of sadness. "Maybe I found my true love and now she's gone, I'm not supposed to find it again."

"Lincoln. . ." Sara murmured his name softly and took his hand, squeezing it tightly. "She would want you to be happy. There's someone out there that could make you happy. That doesn't mean you have to love her like you loved Veronica. And you never, ever have to forget her. You know that, don't you?"

Lincoln just stared at Sara’s hand on his while she spoke, the smile fading from his face and her words sinking into his heart. The second she mentioned Veronica, Lincoln’s heart skipped a beat and he missed her more then he ever had. “I never will,” he said quietly, excusing himself and leaving her alone on the couch while he went into the kitchen to clear his head. He rested his hands against the counter and fought back a tear that welled up in his eye, inhaling deeply and shaking his head. “Get a grip, Linc,” he growled at himself annoying.

Sara sat on the couch for a moment, wondering if Lincoln wanted to be left alone. Finally, she decided that Lincoln had probably spent enough time grieving alone for a lifetime and she walked into the kitchen. Without saying anything, she stepped towards him and wrapped him in a hug.

“What are you doing?” Lincoln objected lightly, shaking her off of him like she was an annoying child. “I’m fine,” he anticipated her concern and offered her a weak smile. “Look, I know you can’t keep your hands off me but remember who you’re married to…Scofield,” he smiled at her, emphasizing her surname, that wasn’t his. “Not Burrows,” he added pointing towards her smirking face.

Sara laughed and moved to the refrigerator, opening the door and taking out a bottle of water. "You know, Linc, you don't always have to joke around. I know you think it makes you feel better but. . ." She trailed off and shrugged. "I love you. Michael does too. Just know that, okay?"

“I know,” he looked at his feet that shuffled on the tiled floor before looking back up to her with a twisted expression. “Joking makes it feel better, you know?” he said sadly.

"I know," Sara agreed softly, nodding her head. "I know, Linc." She gave him one more sympathetic nod before squeezing his arm gently.

Lincoln let out an audible sigh as he pulled her into another embrace and held her to him. “Damn…” he sighed, tucking her head under his chin. “…I should have let take me that night you came to me drunk,” he growled playfully with a smile. “Sara Burrows…Dr. Burrows…yeah, it sounds good,” he laughed.

"Yeah, well, you had your chance," Sara whispered, hugging him tightly. "Now we'll just have to keep our affair a secret." She hugged him quietly for a moment. "I think I want a baby, Linc."

Lincoln pulled back quickly, confused. He frowned at her before looking around the kitchen shiftily. "I think your husband might have something to say about that," he winked. "Practising couldn't hurt though," he said arching his eyebrows towards the kitchen table behind her.

"Not with you!" Sara shoved him away gently and laughed. "God, Linc." She laughed louder and shook her head. "Sometimes I think you're our kid."

Lincoln pouted and gave her the Burrows-Scofield puppy dog eyes. “And I weally weally want bwothers and sisters,” he broke into a grin as he finished his words. “Have you told dad…I mean, Michael?” He said.

"No," Sara shook her head slowly. "We haven't really talked about having kids, not in a long time anyway." She shrugged and screwed the cap back on her water bottle. "He'd be an amazing father though."

"Yeah," Lincoln let out a chuckle. "Even when he was fourteen, and LJ was born, he couldn't hold in his baby talk," Lincoln laughed recalling the teenage Michael with his nephew for the first time. "He was better than me," Lincoln said with a smile. "You should tell him," he nodded.

"Maybe," Sara shrugged, tracing the pattern on their marble counter. "I mean, he has awhile to go until he can even think about having sex again. And he's tired and under stress. No reason to bring it up now."

"Well, make sure you do," Lincoln told her firmly, planting another soft kiss to her forehead and he walked past her and out of the kitchen. "I need some company in this relationship!" he called behind him as he found the couch again. "Hey, Sara?" he called, enticing her from the kitchen with the soulful drone of his voice. "I think i hear Mike in pain," he teased, falling back against the cushions. "Time to play doctor."

"Is it mean I've been hoping he'll wake up?" Sara grabbed Michael's pill bottles off the counter and headed towards the stairs. She stuck her head through the half-closed bedroom door, smiling sweetly at her patient. "Hey, you."

Michael smiled when he turned towards the door and saw Sara leaning against the doorframe. "Hey," he croaked gruffly before breaking into a coughing fit. He doubled over in pain, clutching his side tenderly and pinching his eyes shut to fight back the tears that threatened to fall. Michael had never, in his entire life, felt pain like it and he hoped he never would again. "God..." he breathed through gritted teeth as he fell back against the cushioned and opened his watery eyes and sighed at the blood on his hand. It had soaked through his bandage, expelled from his body while he had been coughing. "...Please..." he coughed a little again before swallowing a lump in his throat. "...Please just shoot me," he groaned.

"Now don't say that. . . " Sara whispered, quickly moving over beside him. She reached to where she had set her supplies, reading to change his bandage. Opening the container of wet knaps, she quickly grabbed one, wiping off his hand. "You're going to get better, Michael. You're going to feel brand new." She peeled back his bandage, wincing slightly.

Michael had woke up understandably cranky and his over active imagination was trapped reanalysing everything in their bedroom he already had earlier. “It won’t be took soon,” he panted, his coughing fit still causing his muscles to twitch in agony. He winced a little and sucked in a hissing breath when Sara pulling the taped bandage from his skin and he saw the two large holes in his side from the chest tube pipes. He let out another groan and closed his eyes, not wanting to watch when the skin was cleaned painfully.

Sara did her best to be as careful as possible. When she was sure the wound had been thoroughly cleaned, she placed a fresh bandage on it. Smoothing her fingers over it to make sure it stayed in place, she kissed the skin right next to it. "All better." Glancing up at him, she pressed a hand to his chest. "Did you toss and turn while you slept? You need to try to be as still as possible."

“If I moved, I didn’t feel it,” Michael sighed, trying to push himself up the bed a little on shaky arms. “But I guess must have, with that much bleeding, right?” he said, a little worried. “Did you and Linc grab dinner okay?” He said, pulling the blanket up his body and smoothing it over his lap.

"Yeah, he brought me Chinese food. We had a nice talk. . ." Sara smoothed her hand over Michael's face and glanced down. He was still wearing his pants. "Do you want to take these off? You might be more comfortable. I brought your pills up in cause you want to take the pain reliever again. Did it help at all? You don't take your antibiotic for another hour, if you think you can stay up that long? Did you need me to get you another pillow? Want me to help you into the bathroom?"

“Sara…” Michael stopped her questions by taking her hand in his and breathing her name the way he always did, instantly stopping her rambling. “Stop worrying,” he smiled at her sweetly. “I know it’s hard, but try. For me,” he teased lightly.

Sara nodded slowly, squeezing his hand. She brought his fingers up to her lips, kissing each one gently. "I just want to make you feel better."

“I know,” Michael nodded slowly, closing his eyes when she kissed him. “And I really appreciate everything you’re doing but…just take it easy,” he smiled sweetly, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “We can’t both end up in this bed ill can we? Linc will probably burn the house down or something.”

"That is true," Sara nodded slowly. "And we don't want that." She crawled up next to him, sitting close to him on the bed. Kissing his shoulder she whispered, "You look more rested."

Michael sighed and turned his head towards hers. “I feel it,” he whispered. “And good news,” he smiled. “I’m hungry. For real food. Real Chinese food. Did you guys save me any?”

"There's food left," Sara nodded slowly. She gave him a serious look. "I'm not sure if you should eat Chinese, Michael. The last thing you want is to get sick to your stomach. Throwing up would not be good for those sutures. Are you sure you don't want soup?"

“Soup could make me just as sick as Chinese,” he said matter of factly. “I don’t mind, whatever you think is best, Dr. Scofield,” he grinned, getting lost in the hazel of her eyes as they looked over at him lovingly.

"You can have whatever you want, as long as you think you can handle it." Sara brought her hand up to his cheek, stroking it softly. "You know how you're feeling better than I do. I trust your judgement." She stared into his eyes and smiled softly. "I might need to kiss you here in a second."

As if time froze, Michael just stared into Sara’s eyes, absorbing her entire being with his dark blue eyes that were just an mystical and as deep as the ocean. He smiled a genuine smile and managed to lift his arm high enough to cup her face delicately in his hand. “Quickly,” he breathed. “Before my pain meds wear off,” he smirked, fluttering his gaze between hers and her lips.

"I love you." Sara leaned in and met his lips in a slow kiss. She allowed it to last longer than any of their short lived kisses over the past week. She opened her mouth, inviting his tongue, if he felt up to it.

Michael smirked against her lips as his tongue met hers, tasting and dancing in their mouths for the first time in a very long time. A small groaned escaped Michael’s throat and he nibbled on her bottom lips lightly before sucking it and deepening the kiss again. “My God!” Lincoln announced from the doorway, throwing his hand over his eyes. Michael pulled away from Sara quickly and smiled at his brother in the doorway. “Is it over? Am I safe to look now?” Lincoln called from behind his hand.

Sara laughed quietly and arched an eyebrow at Michael, leaning in for one more quick kiss before turning back to Lincoln. "Honestly," she faked aggravation. "Haven't you ever heard that when the bed is rocking, you don't come knocking?"

Lincoln let out a laugh and lowered his hand. “Haven’t you ever heard the term insatiable nymphomaniac?” He quirked an eyebrow at Sara. “I swear to God, If you two were in comas, you’d still be doing it across the room.” Lincoln paused half way between the bed and the door. “No. You’d want to be laid on top of each other,” he laughed.

Sara gave Lincoln a look before turning back and smiling at Michael. "We were just kissing." She looked back to Lincoln. "Tell your brother how nice and relaxed he looks."

“You look nice and relaxed, brother,” Lincoln sang towards Michael. He was nearly at the bed when he froze and bent down to pluck the remnant of a Chicago Cubs shirt from the floor. “What the…?” he frowned before giggling erupted behind the torn fabric as he held it up.


	30. Chapter 30

Sara sat on the edge of the bed, pressing the new bandage to Michael's chest. She had mastered the art of pressing just firmly enough, but soft enough to not hurt him. She glanced up, smiling at him, as he watched her work. "Bringing back some memories?"

Sara had caught him smiling and he whipped his head up to meet her eyes. “Yes,” he smiled without shame, “Only this time I can see what you are doing because it’s not on my back,” he grinned. He was gently propped up on three pillows and had his arm resting loosely behind his head, gripping at the pillow behind him in case there was any pain. “And I have less clothes on,” he smirked.

"I was imagining you half-naked the first time around too," Sara quipped, applying the tape to the sides of his bandages. She ran her fingers gently over it, making sure it stuck. "Plus, you're not kissing me this time."

Michael licked his lips slowly and moved his arm from behind his head, gently resting his palm to the side of Sara’s cheek. “That can change,” he said seductively with a quirked of his eyebrow. “You’ll have to come to me this time though,” he laughed a little.

Sara laughed quietly, leaning up and kissing him softly. She sucked gently on his bottom lip before pulling away. "You're looking good, baby. Nice and healthy."

“I feel good,” Michael admitted honestly, pulling her face to his again for another gut twisting kiss. “And I can feel my legs and…other things…below my waist now,” he smirked at her. “You know, I had a good dream last night and I definitely felt it when I woke up.”

Sara laughed quietly. "Well, it's good to know that you can still feel. . ." She paused and arched an eyebrow. "That. But I don't think you're quite ready for that, Michael." She smirked. "But you can tell me about this dream."

“I’d rather not,” Michael blushed a little, shuffling his legs under the thin covers uncomfortably. “It will only end…frustratingly,” he sighed with a smile.

Sara laughed quietly, rubbing her hand up and down his arm. "Oh, baby, I'm sorry. But hey, you aren't the only one frustrated." She scooted up on the bed, laying her head on his shoulder. "I miss your body."

“My body is right here,” Michael smiled again, trying his luck for a second time. Or was it third? He lifted his hand and offered it to Sara who lifted her and laced their fingers together. Michael rested them to his chest and studied their entwined fingers as he traced his little finger over Sara’s palm. “But you’re right. No matter how horny you are, we shouldn’t,” he smirked playfully not looking at her narrowed stare.

"How horny I am?" Sara raised an eyebrow. "Me?" She glanced down at his body and pulled away slightly. "Lay down, Michael."

“Lay down?” Michael asked excitedly, sliding beneath the covers. He felt a shooting pain in his side from repositioning but he didn’t let on because of his wide smile. “I have to ask…is this a doctor-patient thing?”

"Oh, baby. . ." Sara smirked, running her hand gently down his arm. She pulled the sheet down a little. "We've always blurred the line of doctor-patient."

Michael watched her hands tug at the sheet and expose another few inches of his bare torso. He looked at her with a smile of anticipation. “Exactly my point,” he smirked, feeling his entire body tingle for the first time since they had made love last.

Sara pulled the sheet down even further, running her hand over the thin material of his boxers. "Feel like telling me about that dream now?"

Michael licked his lips again and nodded, letting his head flop back onto the pillows with a breathy sigh. “First of all, you were not wearing anything resembling what you are now,” he said with a grin. “Note to self. Buy Sara something kinky,” he winked at her and smiled to himself when he sucked in a breath. “Secondly, it was a really selfish dream. You got no loving,” he said cheerfully.

Sara laughed and tugged at his boxers, quickly removing them. Leaning over, she brushed her lips across the inside of his thighs before taking him gently in her hand. "Now, if you start to feel any pain, anywhere. . . you tell me."

“Do I have to?” Michael hissed, watching her touch him with so much fire he thought he might ignite.

"Yes," Sara told him firmly, increasing the speed of her strokes. She watched his expression and smiled. "I've missed touching you."

Michael flinched a little. “Okay, maybe a little slower,” he said with a pained expression. He clutched his side as he tried to breath properly. “I’ll need all the breath I can muster for my big finish,” he smirked.

"Sorry. . ." Sara murmured, slowing her pace down a good amount. She watched him carefully. "Maybe I should stop."

“No!” Michael objected loudly. “No,” he repeated a little softer with a shake of his head. “I’ve missed this…I’ve missed the way you touch me,” he smoothed his hands through her hair and trailed his fingers down her neck. “Damn forklift,” he mumbled.

Sara laughed quietly, continuing to slowly stroke him. She did her best to stay as calm and as turned off as possible, but it was hard. "Tell me what I was wearing in this dream."

Michael let his head fall back against the pillows and his eyes flickered closed. A smile crept across his lips and he grinned wickedly. “Very little,” he said with a small laugh. “It’s all black, and lacy, and see through…” he breathed, feeling himself tightening in her hand. “…there are no panties to this little number either, just some sexy stockings and suspenders pulling the corset down over your…” another wide grin crept across his face. “…your modesty.”

Sara laughed softly, fluttering her eyes shut. "I like the sound of this little number, baby. I might have to go search for one." She increased her strokes just slightly. "It'll give you a good reason to want to heal faster."

He peeled his eyes open to look at her. “The fact that you’re…” he looked down at her stroking him again and he gritted his teeth and let out a sigh. “…this doesn’t?”

Sara leaned up, resting her head on his shoulder and placing a kiss on his cheek as she continued what she was doing. His body warmth against hers felt good. "I love you so much."

Michael turned his head to hers and captured her lips in a soft, sweet kiss. “I love you,” he breathed. He moved his hand down to hers and slowed her stroking down again. “I’m sorry,” he blushed a little. “I’m trying to fight the pain, I really am,” he laughed.

Sara slowed her stroking down to where her hand was barely moving at all. She kissed him again, very softly, "I don't want to hurt you, baby."

Michael gritted his teeth together and pinched his eyes closed. “Ahh…” he groaned. “…this sensation is new,” he panted with each stroke. His head fell back against the cushions again and he gulped hard. “Fuck…” he breathed, clutching a handful of the sheet in his hand.

Sara darted her tongue out, taking his earlobe in her mouth and sucking gently. She brushed her lips against his ear. "Come for me, Michael."

Michael panted hard again and the burning in his chest sprang to life, trailing a line of fire trailing his new incision lines under his bandages. "Fuck..." he whimpered with a growl. "Fuck...fuck..." he chanted. "Oh yeah, baby...God..." he gulped with a painfully welcome lump in his throat.

Sara couldn't even pinpoint the last time she had pleasured Michael without any kind of reciprocation. It was strangely hot, and she felt familiar tingles dancing down her body. She pressed a kiss to his neck and flicked her thumb over the tip of his erection. "Oh, yeah?"

“Oh yeah…” Michael nodded. He snaked his hand down his body and covered hers with his. He stroked his erection with her gently encouraging her to twist her hand sideways and brush her palm over his tip with each stroke. “Like this…” he growled.

Sara did as he showed her, continuing to fluttered light kisses to the side of his face and his neck. "Mmm. . . you like that, baby?"

All Michael could do was nod and his bottom lip was trapped under his teeth. His face flickered with a mixture of pleasure and pain as his stomach fell away from him and he felt the built up pressure in his groin release and explode his creamy seed over his tattooed torso. Sara continued to stroke him and he hissed at the prolonged orgasm, clenching his jaw so hard he thought it might break. He let his release fade away and pressed a flat palm to his side, caressing the battered skin under his bandage. “Ow…” he chuckled through his pants, turning his head to meet her for a kiss.

"Are you okay?" Sara asked automatically, speaking the words against his lips. "Did it hurt too bad?" She pulled away. "I told you to tell me to stop."

"I know you did," Michael fought back another stabbing pain. "But I thought you might kiss it better," he smirked.

Sara arched an eyebrow and leaned over the bed, grabbing for where she had placed his bandages. She grabbed a clean Kleenex and cleaned off his torso, smiling up at him. When she was done, she placed a soft kiss on his stomach, then collapsed back onto the bed with a sigh. "So, should I get myself off right here or do I need to go to the bathroom?"

Michael arched an eyebrow excitedly. "Here is fine," he breathed. "I can't see you in the bathroom," he winked, teasing his fingers over the soft skin that peaked out from the hem of her top.

Sara laughed softly, and took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers and squeezing gently. "Oh, baby. I think you might have had enough excitement for today."

Michael lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her skin tenderly. “But you look so hot right now,” he pouted in protest. “And I know you are because I can smell it,” he growled, diving his face into her neck and kissing her racing pulse.

"Michael. . ." Sara murmured, moving away from him slowly. He was right. She was hot. "You're supposed to be resting!"

Michael gave her a pleading frown and pulled the thin sheets back up over himself. “How am I supposed to rest, knowing that you’re just going to be masturbating in the next room?” He said with a weak pointing motion towards the bathroom. “That forklift might not of killed me, Sara, but you will,” he grinned.

Sara laughed quietly, moving back up to where she was leaning next to him. She smirked, glancing at him. "You want to watch me touch myself?"

Michael felt his stomach flutter at the mere mention of Sara doing so. “Oh god, yes,” he breathed; staring into her eyes with the most intense blue stare he could muster. “Do you think of me?” he asked shyly.

"Oh, yeah. . ." Sara murmured, leaning over and meeting his lips in a soft, slow kiss. "I think about you touching me. . . and how good it feels. . . My hands do not do yours justice."

“I can help,” Michael offered enthusiastically. “Come on, Scofield…” he teased playfully, moving his hands to unbutton her pants. “…do not torment me like this.”

"I guess a little personal pleasure couldn't hurt?" Sara placed her hands over his hand helped him undo her pants before slipping them down her legs. "But you can't get too exuberant."

“I’ll try,” Michael smirked, his voice low and gruff. “But if I end up back in the hospital, what should I say?”

Sara smirked and hooked a finger into her panties, sliding them slowly down her legs. "Seriously, Michael. You're still not recovered all the way."

Michael watched her panties slide down her legs and felt his legs twitch nervously. It didn’t matter how many times he saw Sara naked, or partially naked, she was still as beautiful as the first time and she still took his breath away. He smirked and dragged his gaze back up her body. “And yet, you’re still undressing.”

Sara gave him a look, "Well, we've got to stimulate your mind somehow." She trailed her hand slowly over her thigh, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "You're sure you want to watch this?"

Michael gave her a wicked grin and nodded. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he quirked an eyebrow, sensing her discomfort. "Might I remind you, before you answer, we are married and I will see this eventually."

Sara turned to him, brushing her lips against his again. "I don't. . . do this, really. It's just because you’re out of commission really. And I'm still sleeping next to your body so. . . I want it." She ran her hand up higher, gently tracing one finger along the outside of her folds.

Michael watched her hand and felt powerless to react. All he could do was suck in a large breath, but even that caused enough pain to shoot down his arousal. He rearranged himself under the sheets again, licking his lips and blinked for prolonged periods of time.

Sara slowly dipped one finger into her folds, biting gently on her bottom lip. She stroked herself for a moment, before glancing over at him. "Should I stop?"

"No," Michael squeaked, swallowing hard.

Sara slipped another finger into herself, laying her head back on the pillow and fluttering her eyes closed. With him there next to her, breathing on her, it was easy to imagine it was his fingers and not hers. She let out a quiet moan, "Michael. . ."

Michael rested his face near to hers and he panted hard against her skin. Flashing a glance down her body and watching her fingers disappear inside of herself over and over, he moved his lips to her ear. "Tell me how I feel, baby?" he growled.

"So good. . ." Sara murmured, turning her face to his and meeting his lips in a slow kiss. "I love you. I love how you feel." Her eyes fluttered open and she let out another soft moan, curling her fingers up inside of herself.

“God…” Michael murmured against her lips. His body began to tense up painfully again and he couldn’t decide if he was cursing his pain or his pleasure.

Sara brushed her lips across his, letting out a quiet groan against his lips. "Oh, Michael. . ." She opened her eyes again. "Tell me how much you love me."

“Sara, I love you more than words can describe,” He moaned at her, tugging on his sheet so that it fell from his naked body once more. His new blood filled erection sprang into view and he took himself in his hand and began gently stroking. “I love you so much I want you to feel me inside of you,” he gasped.

"Michael. . ." Sara murmured, brushing her lips across his cheek. "We. . . we can't. . . "

Michael let out a pained growl when his side protested his attempt to move. “Who says?” he grunted. “All you have to do is be gentle,” he smirked against her skin, kissing a trail of hot wetness down her ear and neck.

Sara let out a sigh, capturing his lips with hers. She ran her tongue along his bottom lip before sucking on it gently. "God, Michael. You're so tempting."

Not being able to resist it anymore, Michael released his own arousal and ran his hand down Sara’s arm, capturing her hand in his and moving it back to his manhood. He left her hand there and teased his fingertips around the sopping entrance to her scorching hot center. “I’m all yours,” he breathed against her gasping mouth.

Sara sighed and moved, straddling his waist. She did her best to keep all her weight off him as she slowly sank onto him. "God, how can you be this turned on again?"

Michael gritted his jaw closed and let his head fall back onto the softness of the pillows. "It won't be for long," he mumbled, squeezing his eyes closed and resting his hands on her bent knees. "Slowly, baby," he reminded her when his side twitched again.

Sara moved over him as slowly as she could, letting out a quiet moan with each thrust. He was right, it wouldn't be for long. She had gone too long without sex. "Oh, yeah."

“Fuck…yeah…” Michael groaned, tensing his muscles each time she moved on him, fighting his urge to bust all his stitches open and pound her into the mattress. “Come for me, Sara. I want to feel you come,” he whispered, wishing he had the strength to breath the words right in her ear.

Sara came with a loud gasp, the air rushing out of her. She placed her hands on the bed keeping her weight off of him, as her muscles tensed. "Oh, yeah, Michael. Oh. . . yes. . ."

A second wave of release overtook him and Michael spent his weaker orgasmic fluids into Sara. Her muscles rippled around him, pulling him harder and milking him for semen that wasn't there. It felt amazing, even if his side hurt like hell and was burning twice as hot. "Oh, Sara..." he panted, finally able to relax and breath a sigh of relief when she came and stopped moving on him.

Sara rolled off of him and lay down next to him, trying to catch her breath. She reached over, grabbing for his hand. "Are you okay? We shouldn't have done that. Are you hurting?"

“Yeah,” he admitted with a boyish smirk. “It hurts so badly,” he teased.

 


	31. Chapter 31

Sara walked into the bedroom to find Michael laying out one of his nicest dress pants and shirts. She dropped the laundry basket onto the floor and looked over at him. "Baby. What are you doing?"

Michael looked up at her with a questioning expression. He looked back to his suit and picked up two ties. One was dark red and the other was light blue. His shirt was white. “The red or the blue, baby?”

Sara tilted her head to the side and walked towards him, taking both ties out of his hands. "You don't need a tie."

Michael let a laugh. “Sara, I’m going back to work. I need a tie,” he frowned, shaking his head and holding out his hand for the silky items.

Sara walked into his closet, hanging the ties back up. She walked back out, laughing. "Honey. You are not going back to work!"

“What?” Michael chuckled, looked at her confused. “I’m not?”

"No," Sara shook her head and walked towards him. "You are not."

Michael averted his gaze away from her and took a step backwards. “Why not?” he said darkly, his voice low and his eyes focused away from her. He was healed, the doctors had said so and he could return to work on clerical duties. He was going insane at home, not being able to put his skills to good use on anything. The office wouldn’t send him blueprints to work on, and his only choice was the office.

"They said to take as much time as you want, Michael," Sara told him firmly. "As much as you need. You don't have to go back yet. There's so sense in rushing things, okay?"

“I’m not rushing,” Michael said, amused by her accusation. “I want to go back to work,” he nodded at her. “I’m fine, Sara. Really,” he pointed to the scars under his shirt, still healing even though the stitches had come out. “I’m fine.”

"Michael. . ." Sara paused and shook her head. She bit her bottom lip. "No. You're not going back to work yet."

Michael let out a breathy laugh and titled his head at her. He paused but she said nothing. “Sara, you are not my doctor, or my mother. I can do what I want,” he brushed past her into his wardrobe and looked for the light blue tie. “I’m going back to work. Tomorrow.”

"You're damn right I'm not your mother or your doctor!" Sara snapped, following him back into the closet. "I'm your wife."

“And my CO,” Michael scoffed. “You can’t stop me from going to work, Sara. Not If I want to go.”

"Yes, I can," Sara snapped, crossing her arms in front of her. "You're not going, Michael!"

“How?” Michael snapped, turning to face her and waving a hand at her. “How are you going to stop me?” He pushed his fingers into his chest.

Sara shrugged, moving across the room. "I'll hide your keys if I have to, Michael, but I swear to God you are not going!"

“Why?” Michael followed her, his voice bellowing in the room. “Tell me why, Sara!”

"Because, Michael!" Sara snapped, turning around. "Because I don't want you to. Isn't that good enough?"

Michael looked at her and then a burst of laughter escaped his throat. He licked his lips as he turned from her shaking his head. “No,” he said firmly, walking back to his wardrobe and finally finding the ice blue tie.

Sara felt something inside her clutch, and tears filled her eyes. She followed him into the closet and tilted her head to the side. "Michael, please. I am asking you."

Michael stopped what he was doing for a second and looked at her. Her face was red and her eyes were filled with tears that threatened to fall at any second. He sighed, stilling his hands on the tie rack and looked away from her. “I’m sorry, Sara. I can’t stay at home anymore. You go to work and I am here all day. I haven’t been able to drive anywhere for so long and I’ve tried to stay sane. I really have, but I need to get out.”

"So go out with Lincoln!" Sara allowed a tear to slip down her cheek, then hastily wiped it away. "Go to a ball game. I'll buy the expensive tickets. Please, Michael?"

“No, Sara. I can’t,” Michael said slowly, brushing past her out of the closet. He laid his tie down on the bed and then left their bedroom, quickly jogging down the stairs to the kitchen. He needed a coffee.

Sara walked out of the bedroom and downstairs, grabbing her purse and keys. She walked out of the house, slamming the door behind her, getting in her car and driving away.

“Sara!” Michael called, rushing from the kitchen to the front door. He yanked it open just in time to see Sara car pull away. “Dammit!”

Sara drove for awhile, not sure where she planned on ending up. Finally, she ended up at the place where Michael had taken her to watch the sunset. As she got out of her car and dropped down to the grass, she couldn't think about anything except how long ago that had seemed and how safe she had felt.

Michael paced around the house for a while, racking his brains. Sara wouldn’t ever run out of an argument, and this one hadn’t even been that big. He was worried. More than worried, he was aching on the inside, desperate to know where Sara had gone. Walked to the back door, slamming it closed and locking it. He had to find her. Just as he closed the door, the bright orange pink glow of the sunset caught his gaze and he froze. Rushing out of the house, grabbing his jacket and his keys, tugging them on onto the way to his truck, he sighed with relief. He knew where she was.

Sara sat still, leaning against a tree and watching the sunset. She picked at the grass and tossed it around, still brooding. She wasn't mad at Michael, far from it. Sighing, she closed her eyes, pressing her hands to her face. Watching it wasn't the same without him.

Michael stopped his truck some way down the road after he spotted Sara’s car up ahead. He got out of the truck, closing the door quietly behind him and pocketing his keys. He crept up the track, the gravel under his boots crunching under his weight and he finally saw her leaning up against a tree, watching the sunset. Michael walked around the edge of the tree, and sat down beside her silently, pulling his knees up to his chest and leaning against the bark.

Sara remained silent for a moment, watching the sunset. She brushed her hair behind her ear and sighed, feeling the tears well in her eyes again. "Do you know what it was like for me? Seeing you like that?"

Michael shook his head and rested his chin to his arms crossed over his knees. “No,” he mumbled into the crook of his arms sadly. I’m so sorry you had to.”

"I just. . ." Sara kept her gaze off of him and looked down at the ground. A sob escaped her throat. "The thought of you going back to work Michael. . . it scares me. I can't. . . I thought I was going to lose you."

“But you didn’t,” Michael whispered, shifting his eyes sideways to look at her.

"Michael, I've never, ever been so scared. . ." Sara whispered, finally glancing over at him. She pressed her hands back to her face and let another sob escape. "Not a day is going to go by with you at work where I'm not going to worry the entire time."

“You don’t have to worry…” Michael said softly, lifting his head from his arm so his words were clearer in the silence of the night.

"But I'm going to," Sara murmured, her words barely audible through her tears. "Every single second. . ." She sniffled and hastily tried to wipe her stream of tears away. "I hate that I feel like this!"

Michael didn’t know what to say to make her feel better. For once in his life, he was lost for words of inspiration. He leant into her, pulling her to him with an arm around her shoulders. He let his legs fall to the ground and held her to his chest while she cried. “I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel like this,” he whispered, closing his eyes and hating himself. “I’m sorry, Sara.”

"It's not your fault," Sara whispered against his chest, shaking her head. "It's not your fault, baby." She wrapped an arm around him, pressing her face harder into his chest. "Just not tomorrow, okay? I'll take off work, we can spend the entire day together and. . . I just need a day, okay?"

Michael nodded softly, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Okay, I won’t go tomorrow,” he smoothed his hand up her arm slowly, resting his head on hers. “I promise.”

Sara rubbed her hand around his neck, sniffling and shaking her head. "I don't want to be this way. I'm sorry. Don't be mad at me."

Michael frowned and cupped her face in his hands, lifted her eyes to look at him. “Baby, why would I be mad at you for being worried?”

"Because I don't want you to go back?" Sara whispered with a shrug. She wiped at her eyes again. "I don't want to be some controlling, crazy wife."

“Sara, I will go back to work,” he nodded. “But I had no idea it was this scary for you,” he shook his head, pressing his lips to her slowly. “Maybe it is too early. Maybe I should give it more time, okay?” He pulled her to his chest again and rubbed his hands over her back. “Sara, why did you come here?”

Sara shrugged a little, glancing to where the sun was just disappearing over the horizon. "We were so happy when we were here that night, Michael. Everything was so perfect, everything felt so safe. I just wanted to feel safe."

Michael lifted his head to watch the disappearing glow of the sun and then they were plunged into darkness. He still didn’t say anything, just held her closer in the cool of night, letting his head fall back against the bark of the tree. He leant forward, taking his jacket off and wrapping it around her shoulders before she had time to protest. “Don’t get cold.”

Sara leaned her head against his chest, sighing softly. "If you want to go back, I'm not going to stop you, Michael. I mean it. I don't want to be bossy."

“You’re not,” Michael objected lightly, holding her closer. “I don’t want you to be upset about me going back to work. If it makes you feel better, I won’t be allowed back on a construction site ever again,” he chuckled.

"That does make me feel a little bit better," Sara rolled her eyes and laughed quietly. She stroked her fingers up and down his arm. "Michael, I'm sorry I left like that."

Michael shrugged and pressed his lips to her hair. “You can’t help the way you feel, Sara. I know that better than anyone,” he smiled, remembering how he felt when he saw her in person for the first time. He had never been so nervous in his entire life.

Sara tilted her head up and placed a short, soft kiss to his mouth. She pressed her face into his neck. "Don't ever go back."

“I can’t never go back,” he sighed sadly. “What about when we have kids? One job won’t support them you know.”

Sara smiled and brushed her lips across his again. "Mmm, I love when you talk about our future babies."

There was a pause. Michael didn’t know what to say. They talked about kids a lot recently and he was wondering if Sara wanted them soon. He didn’t want to pressure her but when she was ready he would be more than willing to help. He hoped that they would last longer than the sunset and not disappear into nothingness. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to them, not after everything. “Sara?”

Sara brushed her lips across his cheek and pulled away, looking at him seriously. "What, baby?"

Michael looked at her, his head still resting on the bark of the tree. Her tear stained face, swollen eyes and moist lips made his heart crack. “I’m sorry again,” he said slowly, looking away from her to watch his finger pick at some grass next to his thigh.

Sara turned her body, resting on her knees so that she could face him. She cupped his face in her hands and tilted her head to the side. "Baby, why are you sorry?"

“For being so selfish,” he sighed. “I should have talked to you about going back to work. You’re right. You’re not my doctor, or my mother but you are my wife,” he turned to look at her and leant into her touch. One of his hands came up to his face, holding her hand to his cheek. “My life isn’t about me anymore. It’s about us.”

"That doesn't make me the boss of you, Michael," Sara told him softly. "You know what's best for you. Sometimes it just doesn't matter what I want."

Michael frowned at her. “Of course it matters what you want,” he said defiantly, reaching out to stroke his hand down her soft, auburn locks. He let a small smile creep across his lips and he tilted his head back and closed the gap between them to kiss her softly. He let his lips linger on hers before he rested his forehead to hers and licked his lips. “What you want is all that matters to me.”

"I just want you to be happy, Michael," Sara said softly, rolling her head against his. Her eyes filled with tears again. "I just want you."

Michael sighed again, but this one was of relief and it was mixed with happiness. “Baby, you could have me all day long if you wanted,” he smiled, kissing her cheeks and wiping away her tears with his thumb. “Let’s stay in bed tomorrow. All day. Me and you.”

Sara smiled, leaning in and pressing her lips to his for a slow kiss. "I'm sorry I'm so emotional about this, Michael. I really am. I just. . ." She trailed off and shrugged. "A day with you in bed sounds amazing."

Michael smiled and held her face in his hand, kissing her forehead slowly before pulling her into his embrace once again. “I’ll make you forget all your worries, I promise,” he breathed, holding her to him in the dead of night.

Sara leaned in, kissing him again before pulling away. She glanced around and shrugged. "We'd better go home."

  
The next day was to start early. If Michael had anything to do with it. When he opened his eyes, Sara was softly snoring next to him, sprawled out on her back like a starfish with one of her creamy white skinned hands resting under her cheek. He had been watching her for about fifteen minutes, periodically looking between the clock and her unchanged features. He sighed a little, twisting his lips into a wicked smile and sliding under the covers. He rested to the side of her form and began planting soft, wet, open mouthed kisses to her flat stomach, trying to coax her from her sleep.

Sara groaned and tried to shift but Michael held her in place. She fluttered her eyes open and glanced at the clock, groaning again. "Baby."

“Mmm?” Michael groaned, his eyes closed and his lips creeping further up her body. He kissed her ribs, her belly button, even the inside of the crook of her elbow that was resting across her body in his path. He pressed his lips to the space in between her bare breasts and then poked his head out of the comforter, rested his chin on her chest gently and looking up at her sleepy face.

Sara rolled her eyes, but couldn't stop the grin from breaking out across her face as she stared down at him. "Morning, lover."

Michael mirrored her grin and closed his eyes again, lazily kissing the patch of skin where his stubbly chin had been resting. “Good morning,” he whispered through his smile, smoothing his hands over her thighs under the blanket.

Sara glanced towards the clock again, sighing. "What are you doing awake so early?"

Michael smirked again and pressed his lips to her skin, tasting the warmth of it through his pink mouth. “What are you still doing trying to sleep this early?”

Sara let out a soft moan and let her eyes flutter back shut. "I thought we were spending the day in bed, baby."

“We are in bed,” Michael smiled, disappearing back under the blanket and kissing around the side of her ribs, tickling her skin with his soft overnight growth of whiskers. “And we are spending the day here,” he confirmed between kisses.

Sara laughed again and ran her hand over his head. "Baby, we're supposed to be in bed sleeping! And cuddling."

Michael laughed and his hot breath condensed against her skin. “I’m not allowed to kiss you?” he objected, pouting and letting him bottom lip touch her stomach. “I can’t make you feel good without sex?”

"Yes you're allowed to kiss me," Sara smiled at him. "And I don't need sex to make me feel good. You make me feel good all the time."

“I aim to please,” Michael whispered, pressing his open mouth against her hip bone and tasting her skin with a small murmur.

"Mmm," Sara murmured, fluttering her eyes shut. "And you sure are good at it."

Michael moved across her body, feeling the tiny hairs across her skin prickle to life under his kisses and pressed his lips to her other hips softly. “Do you want me to make you breakfast?” he offered slowly, tickling her ribcage with his fingertips.

"But. . ." Sara let out a quiet whine and rolled over. "Then you'd have to get out of bed."

Michael arched his brow when she rolled over and climbed back out of the comforter, pressing his body into her back and reaching his hand over to lace his fingers in hers on the pillow beside her head. “When you’re hungry, just let me know,” he said gently, pressing his moist lips to the bare skin on her shoulder.

"I'll make you breakfast," Sara whispered, shaking her head softly. She pressed a kiss to his neck. "So you tell me what you want."

“I want…” Michael whispered in a dark, husky tone that made Sara’s skin tingle. He was whispering against her neck and his breath was beating against her ear lobe. His hand snaked over her body, flattening his palm over her stomach and teasing the skin around her thighs with a barely there touch. “…You,” he breathed, kissing her neck with a grin.

Sara pressed her body into his, running her hand over his head then down his back. "Mmm. . . . baby." She smiled and tilted her head back. "I'm not sure I'd make a very good breakfast."

Never satisfied with being away from Sara for too long, Michael shuffled sideways and laid down next to her, resting his head to his pillow and rolling her over until her body touched his. “We have all day to think about breakfast,” he said softly, taking her hand in his and entwining their fingers. His lifted the bundle of fingers and kissed her knuckles. “Let’s just…Let’s never leave the bed again,” he sighed.

"I tried to suggest that yesterday," Sara rolled her eyes. "And you wouldn't have it."

“So I was indecisive yesterday,” Michael shrugged, his lips turning up into a small smile. “Are you going to hold it against me today?” He shifted backwards, rolling over and looking at the clock. “I could still make work,” he teased, not looking back to her but keeping his gaze on the bright red digits of time.

Sara pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "What do you want me to hold against you, baby?"

“The fact that when I am around you I can’t make rational decisions,” Michael smirked, rolling his head over the soft, blue pillowcase and grinning at her. “And you can hold anything against me,” he smirked harder, letting his eyes roam over her bare shoulders and over her shape under the comforter. “Anytime.”

Sara laughed again and rolled back onto her back, smiling at him. "You want to spend all day having sex?"

Michael rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his hand, watching her eyes flicker over the ceiling. “Not all day,” he smirked playfully. He dropped to the bed, throwing his arm over her torso and nuzzling his face into the hollow of her neck, kissing the skin there. “We have to make time for snuggling.”

"Snuggling is always good," Sara told him, running a hand down his side and tracing her finger over his hipbone. She pressed her body against his. "Then again, anything with you is good."

Michael hummed his response as he kissed her skin again, his lips vibrating against her skin. “Do you remember when…” he kissed her again, sliding down in the bed a little to press his lips to the side of her breasts. “…I saved you in the riots?” He whispered. “I knew I loved you at that exact moment.”

Sara looked down and rolled her eyes slightly. She laughed as his mouth tickled her, and rolled to her stomach, blocking her breasts from him. "You did not know you loved me then."

“I did!” Michael objected her comment with a smirk and a laugh. He pulled his face up to look at her before showing that she couldn’t escape him by brushing her hair from across her bare shoulders and trailing his tongue over the top of her spine. “I really did,” he breathed against her skin, planting a hand on either side of her torso and kissing down her backbone.

Sara turned her head on the pillow and looked at him. She remained silent for a second, then spoke. "Then why did you leave me?"

Michael stopped his kissing and looked down at her, losing his smile. “I never wanted to,” he whispered, balancing on one hand while he swiped her hair from the side of her face. He leant down, resting his forehead to her temple and kissing her cheek softly. “I’ve never wanted to leave you but if I hadn’t of gone that night…” he trailed off, swallowing hard.

"No, I know. I know you had to go," Sara said softly, shrugging her shoulders just slightly. "It's not like I'm bitter or anything, Michael. I just wish you had. . . told me sooner? Told me because you had wanted to rather than because you had to."

Michael lifted his head from hers again and stared down at her profile. “Sara, if I had told you sooner, would you have felt the same and left the door open for us?” He paused. “If I had told you sooner, it would have just given you time to hate me and tell Pope.”

"I wouldn't have hated you. . ." Sara trailed off and shook her head just slightly. "I don't know. I guess everything worked out fine."

“Fine?” Michael chuckled above her. He leant down and pressed his lips to her back again, letting his lips linger on the skin while he inhaled her vanilla scent. “Fine is you talking to me after everything. You all naked in bed with me is more than fine.”

Sara let a quiet laugh escape and rubbed her cheek into the pillow, turning so she could look up at him. "I didn't think I wanted this. Not right after. I didn't let myself imagine you and me and all of this. . ."

Michael frowned at her sympathetically. “Why?”

"Because Michael, you were gone," Sara shrugged. "You were gone and I was in trouble and then my dad was dead. A happily ever after was the last place I wanted to go in my mind."

Michael smoothed his hand over her shoulder lovingly and let his hip brush against hers as he shifted under the blanket. “I’m sorry for everything that had to happen before we got here, Sara. I really am.”

"Why are you sorry, Michael?" Sara told him seriously, dropping her voice to her whisper. "Never ever say you're sorry for anything you did for your brother. Ever. Okay?"

“I’ll always be sorry,” he sighed, moving off of her and laying on his back next to her. “I’m sorry for your dad. Veronica. Pope. I’m sorry for all the people who got hurt during the escape.” He laced his fingers together and rested them behind his head and he heaved another sigh as he stared up at the ceiling. “I’ll tell you what I am not sorry for…” he paused, not looking at her. “I’m not sorry I asked you to marry me. I never will be.”

Sara turned and leaned over Michael, brushing her lips over his in a slow kiss. She pulled away and gave him a serious look. "Was it all worth it?"

Michael studied her face for a long while, totally lost in her gaze. Her body radiated warmth onto his and her hair framed her faced, tickling at his etched chest. He unclipped his fingers from each other and brushed some of her backwards, holding it from her face with his hand. “It was all worth it to be with you,” he whispered, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"What about Lincoln, Michael?" Sara asked softly. It was few and far between when Michael would actually talk about this, and she wasn't about to let the opportunity pass. "The prison riots, Westmoreland, Veronica, LJ's mom. My dad . . everyone's life for Linc's?"

Michael paused for a second, frozen with his hand against her skin. “How did you know I started the riots?” he frowned with a serious scowl.

Sara tilted her head to the side. "Because I know you, Michael. And I just. . . I just figured. I didn't know back then. If that's what you're worried about."

“It just needed to be done,” Michael said softly. “I had no idea you were trapped in the infirmary.” He took a long breath. Why was he so uncomfortable with talking about everything that had happened, especially with his wife? “Sara, if you could do something, anything, and at any cost to save the only family you had left, wouldn’t you do it?”

"Of course I would, Michael," Sara told him softly. "You know I would. But it doesn't mean that at times I wouldn't feel guilty."

Michael nodded in agreement. “Then you have my answer in your own words. Linc’s life for everyone’s was worth it,” he paused and looked away from her with a sigh. He swallowed a lump in his throat and rubbed his hands over his face. “It wasn’t worth the guilt sometimes.”

Sara smoothed her hand over Michael's chest and tilted her head. "Do you still feel guilty?"

Michael let his hands drop from his face onto his chest. He laid them over hand and held it to the stained lines of his tattoo. Sara could feel his heartbeat softly thumping under her fingertips in his relaxed state and he let his eyes fall closed. He imagined everyone who had been hurt by what happened and he felt sick. “Every single day.”

"Michael. . ." Sara stared down at him helplessly. She brushed her fingertips along his jaw line. "And you never say anything to me? You have to tell me what I can do for you."

“Nothing can be done to right my wrongs, Sara,” Michael said, looking back to her with a sorrowful expression. “All you can do is be there for me when the guilt is really bad.”

"But I don't want you to feel guilty at all, Michael," Sara told him softly, shaking her head. "Everything you did, you had a good reason, okay, baby?"

Michael stared into her eyes again, taking both his hands and brushing her hair from her face. His eyes flicked over her features and he pulled her face to his, resting his forehead against hers. “Tell me you love me.”

Sara pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. "I love you, Michael Scofield. More than I've ever loved anything."

“I love you too,” Michael whispered, smoothing his hand down the side of her body. When his hand found the back of her leg, he lifted her knee and pulled her across his lap so she was straddling him, needing to feel closer to him. He captured her mouth in another kiss, gently and slowly letting his tongue meet hers as he sat up and wrapped his arms around her body, holding her to him. The blanket around their bodies fell to Sara’s waist and the cool air invaded her skin. With a groan of thankful relief, Michael broke the kiss and laid his head against her bosom, letting his eyes fall closed. “Thank you.”

"For loving you?" Sara asked softly, brushing her lips across his again. She spoke quietly, her mouth on his. "Thank you for giving me someone to love, Michael."

“Always,” Michael whispered, kissing her again while he smoothed his hands across her shoulders.

"And forever?" Sara whispered softly. She didn't wait for his response, instead met his mouth with hers again, kissing him long and slow.

“And a day,” Michael mumbled against her lips. His hands found her back and he let them roam over her soft skin, tracing the bumps of her spine and around her shoulder blades.


	32. Chapter 32

Sara walked around the kitchen for a few minutes, trying to decide if she wants to disturb Michael when she knew he was in the middle of working on an important project. She could take care of it alone, then let him know the results later. She almost decided on that course of action, but then decided she didn't want to go through it alone. Walking slowly down the hallway she glanced into his office. He was bent over his desk, glasses on, tongue sticking out a little. She cleared her through, "Michael?"

Michael shot a glance under his arm, his hands frozen to the blueprint in front of him careful not to move the sharp pencil and metal ruler from the thin paper. He knew it was her before he even looked. A second pencil was held between his lips and he looked back to the blueprints with a mumble. “Hold on…” he muttered, checking twice before drawing the line he wanted. When he was pleased, he pushed himself up, turned to her and pushed his glasses back up his nose with his knuckle. He took the pencil from his mouth and tucked it behind his ear. “Hey, what’s up?”

Sara smiled at him softly, moving into the room. She sat her tea down on his desk and hopped up next to him, looking down at the blueprints he was looking fun. "They look good." She glanced back to him, wrinkling her nose. "Do you have time for a break?"

Michael moved next to her and gently moved her tea further from his blueprints. He rested his hands on either side of her hips against his desk and leant towards her face with a playful smile. “For you I do,” he grinned.

Sara smiled at him, and cupped his face in her hands, pulling him in for a kiss. She brushed her lips across his, and whispered, "I'm late."

Michael pulled back and looked at her confused. "For...?" he extended the syllable out and shook his head a little.

Sara bit her bottom lip and tilted her head to the side, studying him closely. When she finally decided he really didn't know what she meant, she smiled. "I think I might be pregnant?"

Michael's hands slid from the table to her hips and his fingertips smoothed over her thighs. "Really?" he breathed, an excited but nervous smile playing across his lips. "Have you done a test?"

"Not yet," Sara shook her head, her smile growing wider when she took in the excited look on his face. "I was going to, but I. . ." She hesitated, then shrugged. "I didn't want to do it alone."

Michael grinned at her and pressed his hand to her belly tenderly. He looked down to his hand and then back up to meet her gaze. “I have time for a break now,” he smiled.

Sara smiled, leaning into him and kissing him on his cheek. She pulled away and gave him a look, "Hey, don't get too excited."

He smirked and pressed his lips to hers again. “I can’t help it,” he breathed against her lips.

"I don't want you to get excited," Sara whispered against his mouth, shaking her head. "And then . . . and then us not be pregnant."

“Okay, I promise,” Michael said, slipping his hands into hers and pulling her from the desk. “We can always try again,” he gave her a wicked grin and walked backwards out of the office, gently tugging her with him. “I love trying,” he smirked.

"I love trying too," Sara smirked, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her body to his as they walked clumsily out of the room. She dropped her hands to his butt, squeezing lightly and laughing playfully. "And I love you."

Michael couldn’t help but stumble against the wall, pulling her with him and letting her body crash into his with a groan. “I love you more,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her neck and letting a content growl escape his throat. Michael wanted a baby and he knew Sara did too, but he really didn’t mind if it was another false alarm. They had already had three and the disappointment stage had passed, leaving an open road for celebration ahead of them.

Sara laughed softly, tilting her head back. She pulled away from his body and pulled him to the stairs. "Come on, do you want to take this test. . . or do you wanna play?"

"I want..." Michael droned in a velvety smooth voice. "...both..." he quirked an eyebrow and followed her slowly. "...But let's take the test."

Sara nodded and walked into the bathroom, opening the drawer they kept the pregnancy tests in. When they had decided to start trying, Michael had bought about 50. They were coming in handy. She took one out and glanced to Michael. "Go wait on the bed."

Michael nodded and repositioned his glasses on his face, letting his hands slide down his cheeks and rest together as if he was praying. He nodded to her and left the bathroom obediently, letting his tense body drop down onto the edge of their bed and bask in the silence.

Sara stood in the bathroom, staring at the stick. Three minutes, she could get through three minutes. She quickly reorganized her make-up, she picked up the towels she had left on the floor that morning. She sat on the edge of the bath, then stood.

Michael looked around the bedroom. It didn’t matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find anything to hold his attention long enough to set his mind at rest. He settled on the mattress, bouncing up and down a few times, noting mentally that maybe they should get a new one when the bathroom door clicked open slowly. He bolted to his feet and his hands became sweaty as Sara stepped into view with a lowered head and slumped shoulders.

Sara glanced up at Michael slowly, unable to keep a huge grin from spreading across her face when she met his gaze. She took a step closer to him, and let out a quiet giggle. She glanced down, then back up to him, "So, are you ready to be a daddy?"

Michael took two huge strides towards her and grabbed her tiny body, crushing her to his chest and lifting her from the floor effortlessly. He spun them around with a triumphant laugh and Sara rested her hands to his shoulders and joined him in his hysterics. Michael’s head tilted back and he grinned up at her, heaving for breath when his body failed to. “More than anything!” he sighed happily, stroking her hair from her face and pulling her face to his for another kiss.

Sara smiled against his mouth, her grin so wide she was hardly able to kiss him. "We're going to have a baby." She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, and kissed him again, repeating the words. "We're having a baaaby!"

Michael carried her body over to the bed and let her fall silently to the mattress. He crawled over her, pressing his body into hers. “Thank you Italy,” he whispered before running his tongue over her bottom lip and pulling her to him for another kiss.

Sara wrapped her arms around Michael, bringing him down in for a kiss. "I take it you want to celebrate?"

Michael just smirked at her and plucked his glasses from his face, tossing hem to the other side of the bed. "Work can wait," he growled.


	33. Chapter 33

Sara dragged a few boxes out of her closet and settled herself on the floor. Spring cleaning. After she had moved in with Michael she had shoved all of her dad's boxes into the closet, never to look through them. Maybe it was about time.

A banging noise caught Michael’s attention from his office and he looked up at the ceiling with a frown. His glasses slid up his nose and he searched the ceiling when another bang resonated from the corner. He laid down his tools and made his way upstairs silently, careful to avoid the creaky steps, and pushed their bedroom door open a tad to peek his head around the frame. “Sara, are you okay?” He asked and then saw the boxes spread out across the floor. “What are you doing?”

Sara settled herself in the middle of two boxes and opened one, peering carefully inside. "This was my dad's stuff. I've never looked at it."

“Do you want to?” Michael asked her softly, letting his entire bulk walk through the frame and study her actions carefully. “You want me to help?” he offered gently.

"I think I need to?" Sara glanced up at him. "More than I actually want to." She shrugged and looked back at the box again. "Um. You could help if you want?"

Michael pulled his hands from his pockets and pulled a box aside so he could sit opposite Sara. He lowered himself to the floor and crossed one leg under the other that rested straight out at his side. “Okay,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose and pulling the lid off the first box. Peering inside he saw nothing but the off yellow of folders that the government had obviously seen no use for when the governor had died. “Old files,” Michael said, replacing the lid and sliding it away.

"Guess we don't need to keep those," Sara murmured, watching as he slid the box to the side. Sara stared at Michael for a moment, trying to decide why she felt such trepidation about looking through his stuff. Finally, she reached into another box and took out the photo sitting it on. It was of her and her father on her graduation day.

Michael watched her pick up the faded photograph and hold it in a shaking hand. “Sara?” he said gently. “What is it, baby?” he asked when she looked like she was about to cry.

Sara set the photo on the floor in between them and glanced up at Michael. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea if this one picture is going to upset me."

Michael plucked the photo from the carpet and studied it. He let a smile play across his lips and he looked up at her. “You two look happy,” he said with a nod. “And you look so cute at eighteen,” he teased lightly, handing her back the picture. “I’ve never seen your photographs before,” he realised out loud.

Sara watched him, smiling a little and rolling her eyes when he commented on her at a younger age. "I don't really like to look at them." She reached into the box, taking out a few of her father's ties and laying them on the floor next to her.

Michael reached for another box and pulled the lid off. He smiled to himself and reached in and took out a black and white photograph of a newborn Sara. “That’s too bad,” he said shaking his head and looking up at her. “Look what I found,” he smirked, flipping the picture in his hands so Sara could see her naked newborn body.

Sara tossed her head back and laughed, shaking her head at the picture. "That can go back into hiding now."

Michael laughed with her and filed it back in the box. He tilted his head as he flipped through a few more. “Oooo!” he sang with a laugh at the end. He held up a photograph of Sara at about age three hugging one of their family pet Golden Retrievers. “Who’s the blonde?” Michael grinned.

"His name was Jefferson," Sara smirked, taking the picture and laughing quietly. She stared at it for a moment before setting it to the side. "He died right before my mom." Clearing her throat, she took another framed picture out of the box. She had never seen it before. Furrowing her brow, she sighed, feeling tears rush to her eyes.

“Sara?” Michael coaxed gently. “What is it?”

Sara cleared her throat, and held the picture out, handing it over to him. It was a picture of her mom, sitting in a rocking chair, holding her when she was a baby. Sara remembered her mother, had many pictures of her, but she didn't remember anywhere she had ever seen such an uncanny likeness between her mother and herself.

“Wow,” Michael breathed as he studied the photograph. He held it in one hand and trailed his fingers over the image. Sara had her mother’s smile, her mother’s hair, her mother’s rounded cherub like features and her dazzling eyes. Sara was definitely her mother’s child. Michael looked up to her with a smile. “I’m getting you a rocking chair,” he quirked an eyebrow, imagining how Sara would look cradling their child.

Sara laughed quietly, and reached down, running her hand gently over her still flat stomach. "You know. . ." She sighed quietly. "Sometimes I wish she was still here. I know I'm too old for that but . . ."

"Not at all," Michael shook his head. "You are never too old to miss a loved one, Sara. And you know what? She's not gone, Sara. She's always with you," he smiled, handing her back the photograph. "What was her name?" He asked quietly.

Sara glanced up at Michael, slightly surprised he didn't know her mother's name. She cleared her throat and smiled at him. "Emily."

"Emily," Michael repeated, testing the name on his tongue. "It's pretty," he told her sweetly. "Maybe if we have a girl..." he shrugged, fiddling through the box in front of him.

Sara smiled sweetly, and leaned over, pressing her lips to his in a long, slow kiss. "You know how much I love you, right?"

"Yes," he grinned, enjoying the feel of her lips on his. "Okay, Sara..." Michael laughed, picking up another photograph. "...How did you move in this?" he chuckled, showing her the photograph in his hand of her dressed as a carrot. She was aged around six and had her two front teeth missing.

"That costume was great!" Sara squealed, snatching the picture out of his hand. "My mom made it, believe it or not! We went to this big Halloween party that night and I won a prize for the Most Creative costume!"

“Well, go you,” he smiled. “Oh, here we go,” he said slowly, plucking another photo from the box quickly. He held it out and studied it through his glasses with a smirk. “Mmmm, Bikini,” he sang in a deep voice.

"Stop that!" Sara laughed, taking the picture and tossing it back in the box. "I think you've had enough of picture time today." She smirked at him and stuck her hands in her shirt, making it poof out. "Pretty soon I'm going to be fat."

"Pretty, yes. Fat, no," he smiled at her. "You'll still be gorgeous," he said with a wicked smile. Michael put the lid back on the box of photographs and slid it aside. He pulled another him, pulled the lid off and quickly shoved it back on when he saw some of his own photos. Sara must have pulled out one of his boxes by accident. "We can skip this one," he said nervously, sliding it sideways.

"Why?" Sara arched an eyebrow, reaching for the box. She peeked inside and let out a squeal when she saw the picture that sat on top. Lincoln was holding Michael, feeding him a bottle. "Look at you two!"

Michael blushed and grabbed for the photograph. "Stop it," he warned with rosy cheeks.

Sara held the picture out of reach and let out another coo. "You're both so tiny! And look at your blue eyes, even then, Michael! All the babies in the nursery must have wanted your number." She let out another giggle and handed the picture to him. "I hope our baby is that cute."

"I was not cute," Michael told her firmly. "I was chubby, and I had dimples...look!" he said, pointing to the photograph. "Dimples!"

"The cutest dimples I've ever seen!" Sara informed him. She pointed to where his hand was wrapped around Lincoln's wrist. "And the cutest little fingers. And look at your little nose."

Michael narrowed his eyes at her and shook his head slowly. "You'll pay for that," he winked playfully. He grabbed another box, pulled the lid off and sifted through eagerly. He burst into laughter and plucked a photograph from the pile. "Well look who it is all naked in the tub," he grinned.

Sara laughed and blushed, glancing at the picture in his hand. "See, I can admit I was adorable!" She winked at him. "Stop looking at me naked. I feel violated."

"But you were so cute," Michael scrunched his nose and held the photograph to his heart while he smiled at her. He looked back down and a photo caught his gaze from Sara's box and he scooted closer to retrieve it. "Hey look..." he pulled it out and handed it to her. Two young boys stood squinting in the sun, hands clasped obediently in front of them while a tall woman with long, black hair stood between them. She was pressing her giggling face to Lincoln's screwed up expression, kissing him lovingly. "...That's my mom," he beamed proudly.

"Look at that," Sara took the picture from him and smiled down at it. "You guys have her hair. She looks so happy, Michael." She glanced up at him, "You all look so happy."

"We were," Michael sighed happily before his smile faded. "I was...eight there," he sad sadly.

"I know," Sara whispered, leaning over and squeezing his wrist. "I know, baby." Her hand subconsciously drifted to her stomach again as she watched Michael.

Michael blinked a few times and let the tears evaporate from his eyes. "You have any siblings?" Michael said suddenly, finding a single photograph of Sara in another compromising situation.

Sara arched an eyebrow. "Michael, you know I'm an only child."

Michael recoiled his body back. “What?” he said in a high pitched squeak. He held up another photograph of Sara in her birthday suit, only this time she was a lot older and he wondered how it had even been taken. “You mean my wife would do this…for real?” He smirked, twisting the paper in his fingers and showing Sara the photograph of her skinny dipping.

Sara rolled her eyes and snatched the picture out of his hands. "What? You've never skinny-dipped?"

"I've never been photographed whilst doing it," he smirked. "Who took this anyway?" he asked, a little jealous.

"A guy I dated," Sara shook her head, snatching the picture away from him. "I don't even know how it got in with these photos." She looked over at him. "Don't look at me like that!"

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it,” he chuckled. “You liked being naked a lot,” he noticed, holding up another photograph of an infant Sara in her yard, lying in a paddling pool with a cheesy grin.

"I think my mom was mostly just too drunk to care to put clothes on me," Sara said dryly, surprised by her bitter tone, "Plus, I still like being naked."

Michael smiled down at the box he was putting the lid back on and slid it out of his way. He rocked his body forward and crawled on his hands and knee towards Sara with a joyous grin. "I like you being naked too," he whispered, letting his eyes drop over her body as he nuzzled his lips into her neck.

"I know you do," Sara murmured, laughing quietly. "It's why I like being naked so much. But we'll see what you have to say about that in about seven months."

Michael chuckled against her skin and sat back on his heels. "You won't ever want to see me naked again, that's for sure," he quirked his eyebrow with a wry smile. "You'll hate me in seven months time. Yell at me and tell me never to so much as look at you again," he said firmly. "I know, I’ve seen this birthing stuff on TV," he screwed up his face a little, feeling kind of sick. "I've been told it's more beautiful when it's your own child though."

"Well, I've seen it live and in person," Sara teased, rolling her eyes. "And trust me, it isn't pretty." She shrugged. "You kind of forget about it though when you realize there's this whole new person coming into the world." She patted her stomach. "We've got a little person right here."

Michael smiled at her sweetly before tackling her gently to the floor and lifting the front of her shirt. "Hello, little person," he said to her stomach comically. He smoothed his hands over the silky skin and planted a kiss to just under her belly button. "You can call me Daddy, and this..." he said, flashing Sara a grin as he looked up her body. "...this is Mommy. You have to be good to her," he said with a playful scowl against her skin. "She'll be your everything," he whispered and kissed her skin again.


	34. Chapter 34

Sara sat in the waiting room of the doctor's office, thumbing through one of the magazine's on pregnancy. She was reading a detailed description, with pictures, of what her body could expect during the next several months. Wrinkling her nose, she glanced over to Michael. "Maybe this baby thing was a bad idea."

Michael looked at her puzzled before glancing down at the magazine in her hands. "Ah..." he sounded and reached for the magazine. "...maybe you should stop looking at these," he said, placing the magazine away from her and replacing the space left in her hand with his own warm palm. "Beautiful, remember?" he smiled at her, giving her hand a squeeze.

"You say beautiful now when I still look like this," Sara gestured towards her flat stomach. "And when I'm not cranky or moody. And there are no midnight cravings."

Michael leant sideways in his chair awkwardly over the armrest and pulled her to him for a kiss. “No matter what, Sara, I’ll love you,” he smiled and then laughed a little. “You couldn’t put me off you,” he grinned.

"We'll see," Sara smirked, shaking her head slightly. A nurse poked her head through the door and glanced around the waiting room. "Mr. and Mrs. Scofield?" Sara stood and smiled down at Michael, holding out her hand.

Michael took her hand and pushed himself to his feet, not letting her hand go while he followed her into the doctor’s office. It was bright and clean and the nurse gave him a friendly smile as he passed them.

Dr. Greene walked into the office, smiling at Michael and Sara. She sat down on a stool and rolled over to where Sara was perched on the table. "And how are you today, Sara?"

Sara smiled, "I'm good, I think."

Michael smiled when Sara smiled. It seemed to be infectious, which was ironic, considering where they were. He watched the doctor carefully; silently thankful Dr. Greene wasn’t a man. It was silly of him to be jealous of another man touching Sara, he knew that, but Michael couldn’t help himself. The doctor was probably in her forties with short, curled blonde hair that was greying around the edges and a dazzling smile that made both Sara and Michael relax in her company.

Sara leaned back on the table as Dr. Greene pushed the sonogram machine over to them. She glanced at her notes, then smiled at Michael and Sara. "How about we take a first look at this baby of yours?"

Michael nodded excitedly and took up residence on a stool on the other side of Sara. He took her hand in his, clutching it between both of his and holding it to his lips. “Can you tell the sex yet?” Michael asked the doctor as she busied herself with rolling up Sara’s top and tucking a piece of paper towel into her pants.

"Not for a few more months," Dr. Greene shook her head with a smile. She squeezed some gel onto Sara's stomach, and Sara took in a sharp breath at how cold it was. "But I can promise you it's a girl or a boy."

Michael laughed out loud against Sara’s hand. He was new to this, and Dr. Greene could tell. Michael smiled to Sara and gently smoothed his hand over her brow, flattening her hair from her face. “You hear that? A boy or a girl?” he grinned letting his hand come to rest against the pillow. “Or, maybe both…” he quirked an eyebrow. “My grandparents had twins you know, so it’s in my genes.”

Sara laughed softly and shook her head. "I think we'll have enough dealing with one baby, Michael. Don't wish for two at once." She smiled softly, "Do you want a girl or a boy?"

Michael shrugged. "I don't care, as long as it's healthy," he smiled and planted a soft kiss against the side of her head.

"Good," Sara smirked, smiling as the doctor pressed against Sara's stomach and pointed to the monitor. Dr. Greene smiled at them. "Can you see it?"

Michael squinted at the screen, leaning his chest into the side of Sara's body while he tried to focus on the grey and black screen. He tilted his head sideways a little and twisted his lips with thought. "Uh..." he said looking to Sara.

"It's right there," Sara whispered, turning her head to smile at Michael. She motioned towards the screen. "See? It's tiny. Looks like a peanut or something."

“Our child is not a peanut,” Michael grinned haplessly. He blinked a few more times at the monitor before pointing at a tiny fluttering image in the middle of a grey blob. “Is that…is that a heart?” he asked softly.

Dr. Greene smiled over at Michael and nodded. "That is your baby's tiny, little heartbeat."

Sara grinned and felt something tighten inside her chest. She dropped her voice to a whisper, "Well. That's a good thing to have."

The doctor nodded, moving to leave the room. "I'll give you two a minute."

Michael let out a breath of content and sucked in his breath again like a kid at Christmas. “This is a real baby,” he nodded enthusiastically. “A real life baby,” he said with a wide grin. He stood up and pressed his lips to hers tenderly. “And we made it.”

Sara smiled against his lips and looked back to the monitor. She studied the picture, then turned to him, grinning. "I think it's a boy."

Michael's eyes lit up and he snapped his gaze to the monitor. "You do?" he squeaked with an open mouth grin. "How do you know?" he whispered, shooting a glance behind him in case Dr. Greene came back in.

Sara smiled and shrugged. "I don't know, I just have a feeling." She pointed to her stomach. "This baby is growing inside me, you know."

Michael smiled and pressed his smile to hers. "I'd like a boy," he admitted, kissing her again and letting his lips linger on hers. He smoothed his hands over her stomach as he kissed her and then groaned a little. He pulled his mouth from hers and his lips twisted with disgust. He lifted his hand and inspected the clear gooey gel over his fingers with a small laugh. "Oops," he quirked an eyebrow and wiped his hands on the towel poking from the pants.

"It's not like it's the first gooey thing you've ever had on your hand," Sara murmured, winking at him. She sighed, "I already have too many men in my life."

"Hey now, less of the flirting," he winked, leaning forward and pressed his grin to her ear. "I'd hate to get caught making love to you in the doctor's office," he whispered, sucking gently on her ear lobe. "And hopefully, you are only have children with one of those men," he added with a smile.

"Well, there was that baby Lincoln and I had while you were in prison," Sara shrugged. "But we both promised we'd never mention it again. So no worries." She smiled back at the sonogram. "Can we take the picture home and frame it?"

Michael eyed are with a narrowed gaze. "Lincoln, eh?" he grinned. "Oh, you must mean that baby with the massive neck," he smirked. When his laughter subsided he rubbed his finger over knuckles and smiled at her. "Of course we can frame it, baby."

Sara rubbed her hand gently up and down his arm. She smiled up at him and leaned up, brushing a soft kiss on his cheek. "You're really going to be a daddy."

Michael's heart swelled with pride and he pulled Sara's head against his, resting their foreheads together. "Yes I am," he whispered, pressing his lips to hers again.

Sara smiled and opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when the doctor came back in. She handed Sara a wet wipe and let her clean her own stomach off as she addressed the parents to-be. "We'll print out a picture, and then you're good to go." She handed Michael a plastic bag. "Everything looks healthy so far. We've got Sara some prenatal vitamins and some reading here. Do you have any questions?"

"I don't think so," Michael shook his head, looking to Sara. "Do we?"

"I think we're good," Sara smiled at the doctor and stood, winking at Michael. "I think my husband might be a little overwhelmed."

Michael blushed and let out a small laugh. He was overwhelmed, among other emotions. He was the proudest person in the world, despite all the other dads sitting in the waiting room, he felt like it.

Sara took the picture from the doctor, and walked out through the waiting room, towards the car. She hooked her arm through Michael's. "This is going to be a long 6 months."


	35. Chapter 35

Michael finished stirring the pot of paint in the kitchen and replaced the lid for the careful journey up the stairs. He padded barefoot across the carpet and along the hall, full pot in one hand and a roller and brush into the other. "Hey!" he objected as he walked into the nursery and saw Sara painting around the light switch. "That's enough of that you," he said, placing his tools back down on the dust sheet that covered the floor and plucking the brush from her hand.

Sara placed a hand on her slightly protruding belly, smiling over at Michael. She waved the brush in the air before turning back to dab some more on the wall. "Oh, come on. This is why we started early, remember? So I could help out before I'm so pregnant you put me on bed rest."

Michael shook his head slightly and tried to pry the brush from her fingers again. When his attempts failed, she slumped his shoulders with a sigh. "Okay, you win. But make sure you stick to the low areas," he pointed at her before turning and lifting the lid from the paint pot. He lifted it and poured it into a dark blue paint tray, and gently pushed the roller through the paint. "You sure you want it blue and not white?" he said with the roller poised above the wall.

"Yes. Blue." Sara confirmed her answer with a nod, sticking her tongue out as she carefully painted the wall. She rubbed her stomach and grinned. "Blue is good for him."

Michael began rolling the paint onto the wall and it made a sticky crackling sound. He applied more paint and began covering the wall again. He paused briefly to watch a drop of paint fall to the dust cover and shot her an apologetic glance. "Oops," he chimed with a boyish grin.

"At least it's not on the carpet," Sara teased with a grin, reaching above her head to paint higher up on the wall. She let out a quiet gasp and dropped the brush back onto the pan, leaning over a little and pressing a hand to her stomach.

"What?" Michael breathed, dropping his roller and rushing to her side. "Sara, what?" he urged, looking her over with a desperate glance and pressing his hand to her distended abdomen. "Sara?" he urged with she hissed a little and stepped back from the wall, letting out a long breath with her eyes closed. "Are you guys okay?" he asked, rubbing his hand over the cotton of her tight top stretched around her belly.

Sara grabbed Michael's hand and pressed it against her lower belly. She kept her hand over his and waiting a second until the flutter of a tiny foot ghosted in her stomach again. "He's moving. Did you feel him?" A grin lit up her face.

Michael held his breath and flattened his hand harder against her belly, desperate to feel his son kick. He waited but he didn’t know what he was feeling for so he frowned. “Sara, I…” he began but a tiny poke in his palm made his hand fly from her skin. “Ah!” he gasped and then pressed his hand back to her belly, pulling her top up to feel her skin on his. He crouched over, resting his face next to the bump and waiting again. A tiny kick pressed into his palm again and Michael grinned widely again. He shot a glance up Sara’s body and flashed a smile. “I feel it,” he breathed.

Sara watched Michael and let out a quiet, breathy laugh when he confirmed that he felt what she had. She smirked and brushed her fingers through her hair. "He's a feisty one."

Michael stood up again to face her but left his hands cradling her pregnant belly lovingly. “Should we be worried?” He quirked an eyebrow at her with a wry smile.

Sara laughed and shook her head. "I don't think you should be worried. I'm the one who's going to have to deal with him keeping me up at night."

Michael smiled and pressed his lips to hers before gently pushing her backwards and easing her down into the rocking chair he had bought her. “You think I won’t share that job?” he pouted playfully, resting his hands on the arms of the chair and leaning forward until it rocked back. “I will you know,” he said quickly, letting the chair rock forward when he moved to resume his painting. “Hey, by the way…” he began, rolling some more of the paint onto the walls. “…have you thought of a name?”

Sara rubbed her belly and watched him resume his painting. "Nope. I thought it's a little early to be thinking of names? Unless you want to fight over it for the next few months, which I suppose is definitely an option." She rocked a little and smiled. "What? Now that he's moving I can't help?"

"Exactly," he grinned over his shoulder, fiddling the roller around in his hand. Michael licked his lips and side stepped to a new patch of clean wall. "You do realise..." he said gently, smiling to himself. "...we conceived this baby in Italy..." he turned to her and let his dark blue eyes sparkle with pride. "...that day, on the beach..." he said with a quirked of his eyebrow. "I've done the math."

"You did the math? So surprising." Sara teased him and smiled, moving to stand up and survey his work. "I did the math too, actually. I guess Italy was magic."

Michael nodded in agreement and took a moment of silence to relive the moment his son had been passed between them. His body shivered a little and he carried on painting the next wall. “I think we should call him Roman,” he said with a shrug. “It’s a strong name, and kind of Italy related…” he began, turning to face her again. He didn’t realise how close she was to him and paint from the roller smeared itself across the tip of her nose. Michael’s jaw dropped suddenly and he took a step back, frozen with an excited fear. “Oh my God, Sara…” he began his apology but it was drowned out by his laughter.

Sara's mouth dropped open and she let out a quiet laugh, reaching up and attempting to dab the paint off her nose. Placing her hand on her hip, she gave him a look. "You did that on purpose."

“How?” Michael objected with a laugh. “I didn’t even know you were there,” he smiled, stepping out from between her and the wall to give himself a greater chance of escaping.

"Uh-huh." Sara moved to stand in between him and the door. Leaning down she picked up the paintbrush she had been using. "Oh, I think you have something on your cheek."

“What?” Michael said trying to look down at his cheek. “Where?” he pointed to his skin, asking her to point it out to him.

Sara swiped her brush gently down his cheek. "Right there."

Michael's jaw fell open eve more and he slowly touched the wet paint on his cheek. He let his eyes peel open again and he frowned at her. "You know what?" he said, wiping the paint from his fingers across her forehead. "That I did on purpose," he grinned.

Sara let out a gasp that turned into a giggle as she dotted a speck of blue paint on his nose. "There. The baby will think you're a clown!"

Michael tried to dodge her attempts but gravely underestimated his own balance and tripped over his feet, tumbling to the dust cover with a thud. He let out a groan, burying his face in his knees and rolling over sideways. A small smirked crept across his lips when he heard Sara gasp, drop her paintbrush and rush to his side.

Sara kneeled down next to him, giving him a concerned look. She pressed one hand to her stomach and the other to his head. "Are you okay, baby?"

Michael fake sobs turned into laughter as he rolled over to face her, grabbing her wrist so she couldn’t get away and smeared paint across her other cheek.

Sara let out a shriek and swiped at the paint on her cheek, rubbing what she could off on him. "You know, it's not very nice to trick a pregnant woman like that!"

Michael huddled his arms against his chest and tried to shield his body from her assault. “It’s not nice to paint your husband like a clown,” he noted through his laughter. He grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and wiped at his face, leaving a pale blue residue against his skin. “You know this is a waste of paint, right?” he scolded lightly, rolling onto his side and propping his head up on his elbow.

Sara rolled her eyes and shook her head. She propped herself up with one hand and rested her other arm across her stomach. "You know I'm not going to be able to get up by myself, right?"

Michael crawled onto his hands and knees and stalked towards her with a smirk. “That’s a shame,” he whispered against her face, gently pressing his lips to hers and then letting them trail their warmth along her jaw line.

Sara tilted her head to the side as he kissed her. "Don't kiss the paint. I don't want to have to drive you to the hospital.

"It's non-toxic," he whispered into her ear, moving his hand to cup her face when he returned his lips to hers once more. "I could lick it off you and I’d be safe," he smiled sweetly with a dark voice. His eyes flickered between hers and her mouth, licking his lips excitedly before sucking on her bottom lips with a low groan.

Sara laughed quietly, closing her eyes as he kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and smirked against his mouth. "We can't have sex in here."

Michael pulled his lips from her quickly and tilted his head with a frown. “We can’t?”

Sara shook her head and pointed to her stomach. "We can't do it in his room!"

Michael looked around the empty room. It was half painted, had no furniture and the dust cover that was laid out of the floor was speckled with blue paint. "It's not his room yet," Michael grinned, seizing her lips for another kiss and pressing his hand to her back and encouraging her to lay under him. "He'll never know," he smirked. "And besides, we are covered in paint...we can't have sex in our bed," he told her matter of factly. "Hmm...maybe the shower..." he said, thinking aloud.

"Well. . . " Sara trailed off and pressed her lips to Michael's neck. "As long as he'll never know."

Michael smoothed his hands over Sara’s body, tickling down her sides and rubbing her bump gently as they kissed. “He’ll never know,” he promised on a whisper.

"Then. . ." Sara kissed Michael's neck. "I guess. . ." She moved her kisses along his jaw and cheek. "It's okay." She met his mouth with hers, trailing her tongue along his lower lip.

Michael deepened the kiss with a smirk, rearranging himself so that he was lying to the side of Sara and not over her stomach. His hand smoothed under her shirt and across her skin, dancing around her stretched skin like it was the most erotic thing he had ever laid his hands on. His tongue found hers, licking and tasting the muscle slowly while the other hand brushed some delicate strand of her rustic locks from her paint covered brow. When his fingers brushed over the dried, crusty paint, he smiled and pulled his mouth from hers with a chuckle. “I’m sorry,” he said with a shake of his head. “The paint is distracting me.”

Sara laughed softly, and sat up, shaking her head. "Alright, that's it." She nudged him and smirked. "You need a shower."

"I need a shower?" Michael said in a high pitched whirr as he stood to his feet and offered Sara both of his paint covered hands. "You got more paint on you than the walls did,” he laughed. "You need a shower."

Sara took his hands and let out a quiet 'oof' as he pulled her to her feet. "I got paint on myself? I think you confused me with the walls, baby." She smoothed down her shirt. "Well, if we both need a shower. . ."

Michael let out a growl low in his throat and closed the space between them. He lifted her hands and draped her arms over his shoulders before gripping firmly to her hips and looking down at her with a seductive smirk. “What if we fall over?” he suggested with a sway of his hips against hers. “What if the baby has other ideas?” he smiled, sliding his fingers around her body and interlocking his fingers behind her back. “How about…we shower and then call it an early night?” he grinned.

"I like the sound of that," Sara whispered, leaning up and kissing his neck. "I like the sound of that very, very much." She pulled away slightly. "But tomorrow, we are painting!"

“Hmmm…” Michael hummed with a crooked smile. “…we were painting today,” he said quietly as she kissed him. “You have no choice. You’ll have to stop being so…” so many words passed through his head, ranging from the mildly sexy to the explicitly pornographic. He couldn’t decide on one that wouldn’t make a hormone raging Sara throw his body against the wall and want him there and then. Not that that was a problem.

"So what?" Sara questioned, brushing her lips over his. "So. . . hormonal? So. . . turned on all the time? So in love with my husband?" He tongue darted out across his Adam's apple. "I can stop if you want."

"So sexually ravenous," he growled, tilting his head down and staring at her with the most intense blue greys she has ever encountered. He shoots a glance a the pot of paint to his left and a playful smile erupts on his face as his breath becomes shallow through his words. "Washable," he quirks an eyebrow as he walks backwards out of the room, gently tugging on her arm as he goes along the hall and into their bedroom. "We can shower later."

"So now the paint isn't a distraction anymore?" Sara teased, letting him lead her towards their bed. "You want to make love to me with paint decorating my body? I mean, I can go get the bucket and let you paint shapes on various places if that would help?"

"Now you wouldn't," Michael chuckles, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head with a heft of breath.

"I mean, you. . ." Sara stepped towards him and traced the outline of his tattoo. "You are already decorated." She followed the line down his stomach, stopping just above his pants. Leaning in, she placed a kiss on his exposed chest.

Michael let her kiss his skin, feeling the tugging of his skin as it tightened and prickled to life when her lips touched him. He gulped a lump in his throat and coughed a little, clearing his voice of weakness. “You know, honestly…” he gulped again when her tongue darted out and lapped at his skin. “…I am trying to think of a good…position to do this in,” he admitted, stroking his hand gently over her protruding abdomen with a grin.

Sara leaned away from him, just a bit and cuddled her tiny belly lovingly. "I'm not that fat yet! We're still tiny." She moved one hand to gently rub her stomach. "Just wait a few more months."

“I won’t….hurt you?” he says softly, doubting his own thoughts. He thought he would, he assumed he would. He’d even thought about not making love for the next five months, but then he was silently slapped on the back of the head by his libido. "No special position needed?" he growled his last words, tugging at the hem of her shirt with a smirk.

"You're not going to hurt me," Sara shook her head. "Or him." She smirked and leaned in to kiss him again. "And any position works as long as you can be careful. Nothing too rough." She smiled playfully and winked.

“Well then,” he breathed, pulling her shirt over her head and dropping it to the ground behind her. He pulled her to him and spun them around, walking her backwards towards the bed. When her legs hit it, she plopped onto the mattress and scooted backwards up the bed. Michael ran his thumbs around the waistband of his jogging pants before pushing hem to the floor and stepping from them with a smirk. He crawled onto the bed in his boxers, unbuttoned her pants and slid them off, and then began kissing his way up her legs at his leisure.

Sara smiled as he slid her pants off in a hurry and she lay her head back on the pillow as he began to kiss her. She glanced down, leaning up a little so she could see him over the tiny pooch of her stomach. "You haven't wanted to have sex as much lately."

Michael stopped his kissing and stilled his hands on her skin. Looking up over the protrusion in her belly, that was made smaller when she laid flat, Michael frowned. "Define lately?" he said, his breath condensing against her inner thigh.

"You used to want to do it twice a day," Sara wiggled into the bed sheets, trying to get more comfortable. "And we didn't do it yesterday." She paused. "Or the day before."

Michael smiled and pressed his lips to her skin, not breaking eye contact as he did so. "I know what you are thinking, Sara," he said slowly, kissing over her hip and then pressing his lips to her belly. "It's not you, I promise. I still want to do it twice a day," he grinned playfully, looping his fingers into the waistband of her panties and tugging them down a smidge. "But, do you realise, since we found out about this baby..." he pressed his lips to her skin again and then slightly lower to the finely trimmed hair line of her pubic bone. "...you have been extra insatiable?" He paused and looked up at her again. "And I mean really...really...insatiable," he growled between kisses. "A guy gets tired when he has sex four, five times a day."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Sara closed her eyes and smiled, wiggling under him as he pressed kiss after kiss to her skin. She let out a quiet moan. "I'll do my best to stop being so demanding. It's just you're so. . . good."

Michael smirked against her skin and slid her panties all the way off. “How good?”

"Better than good. Amazing." Sara giggled and leaned up on her elbows, smiling at him. "Can I help it if I can't get enough?"

“Hmmm…” Michael groaned sliding up against her body and pressing his lips to hers, gently working his jaw as he slid his tongue over hers in her mouth. “I love it when you stroke my ego,” he winked at her, taking her hand in his and gliding it down his body until she felt the cotton of his boxers. “Don’t let me stop you,” he breathed against her neck as he let her hand go against his erection and held her head against his while he nipped at her pulse playfully.

"Mmm," Sara whispered, stroking him softly through his boxers for a moment. She pulled her hand away and smirked at him. "You want me to stroke you, hmm?" Before he could respond, she slid her hand into his boxers. Gently, she took hold of his length and began to slowly stroke him. "Like this?"

“Yeah…” Michael whimpered against her neck, his abdomen tensing and his breath leaving him forcefully. “…Just like that.” Her tiny hand burnt into his skin with every stroke and his hand gripped at the bed sheet beside her head. “God, Sara…where did you learn…oh yeah, like that,” he breathed, kicking off his underwear.

"I know what you like. . ." Sara murmured. She leaned up, placing a wet kiss to his neck before flicking her thumb across the wet tip of his erection. She smiled at his reaction. Watching Michael was often one of the best forms of foreplay.

If Michael wasn’t the gentleman he was, he would have spent himself right there in Sara’s hand. She knew all right and she used it to her advantage, driving him to the edge of his limits time and time again. Michael's hips thrust up into her hand slowly and he let out a breathy moan against the corner of her mouth. His own hand found the dampness between Sara’s thighs and he repaid the torturous favour by rolling her clitoris under his thumb. Her moan encouraged his stroking and he smiled into another kiss. “You’re not the only one who knows.”

Sara moaned quietly and turned her head pressing a kiss to his neck. Her pleasure intensified and she moaned again, louder, biting gently at the soft skin. "Oh, yeah. . ." Her voice came out breathy and her eyes fluttered close. "I love how you touch me."

Michael had noticed recently, the sudden surge in sexual excitement, explicit moans and new found ferocious nature of Sara's love making. He wanted to blame the baby, but he'd be damned if he didn't thank the little mite twice as much. Michael dipped a finger into Sara's slippery folds and felt her body shudder beneath him when he scraped his blunt finger over the inside of her cervix.

"Oh, yeah. . . ." Sara whispered into his neck. "Oh yeah. Oh yeah. . ." If she hadn't felt so good, so so good, she would have been almost embarrassed at how she reacted to even the slightest touch he gave her. Taking a deep breath, she turned, pushing him down flat onto to bed in one swift movement. "I need you inside me."

Taken back by her surge of energy, Michael fell hard against the sheets with a slightly pained moan when Sara's crushed herself to his straining erection. He grinned up at her from straddling his waist and sitting above him. Michael gripped her hips and rubbed her soaking wet sex against his erection, teasing her and causing her to moan again. Her eyes were fluttered closed and her bottom lip was pinched between her teeth with premature passion. As if he wanted to arouse her further, he thrust his hips up against her and froze when her body clenched tightly against him. "Beg me," he growled.

Sara leaned down, meeting his lips in a hungry kiss. When she finally pulled away from it, she left her lips against his. "Please?" She moved her kisses to the corner of his mouth. "Make love to me, Michael." She kissed his neck. "Give me what I want."

Michael smoothed his hands behind Sara back and unclipped her bra, letting the material fall slack and slid from her skin. When the cool air hit her skin, her nipples tightened and peaked hard against the indigo glow of his tattooed chest. He smoothed a hand down her body, over the curve of her behind and guided himself towards her core with a strangled moan. “You want this, baby?” he whispered into her ear, holding her body to him with his other arm and thrusting the tip of his erection into her.

"You know I do. . ." Sara moaned, closing her eyes. She wrapped her arm around his neck and kissed him softly. "I want you so bad, Michael. So, so bad."  
Sara clung to Michael's skin like she might explode if he let her go. He withdrew himself from her, to which she detested prolifically and then teased her entrance with his arrival once more. "How...badly?" he teased with a wicked grin.

Sara met his lips with hers and simultaneous tightened her knees around his hips, pushing herself down onto him hard and fast. She let out a muffled moan against his mouth and smiled. "So bad."

"Sara..." Michael growled but his words were cut off with her kiss. Sara was even more aroused than he could have imagined. He knew because she chewed on his lip to the point where it began to hurt him and he groaned low in his throat. When she let his lip go, he kissed away his pain against her lips one more time before pushed her into a sitting position and rocking her hips back and forward of her manhood. "Yeah..." he grunted as Sara increased the pace by herself. "...Like that."

"Just like this?" Sara mumbled, only half coherent. She forced her eyes open, watching his face as he rode him. "God, Michael, you're so hot." She let out a load moan, and pressed her hands into his chest, increasing her pace once more. "This. . .feels. . . so. . . good."

Michael nodded at her because it was all she could do. He had never let Sara take the lead in sex before, but he wasn’t complaining. His hand found her behind and he smacked it hard, rejoicing in the shriek that escaped her throat and the feel of her nails dragging across his chest. “Harder, baby,” he growled through gritted teeth, their eyes locked and speaking volumes. He grabbed a handful of her behind and pulled her hard up his body. “Harder.”

Sara increased her speed once more, thrusting hard onto him. She let out a little moan with each thrust, whispering his name. She was getting close, very close, but it felt so good she didn't want it to end. She ground her hips into his. "You like this?"

“Oh…” Michael groaned, lengthening the syllable as it left his mouth. He pinched his eyes closed and smoothed his hands down her thighs and then back up the inside to stimulate her bundle of nerves with his fingers. “…Yeah.”

"Oh, God," Sara's voice was barely audible. She repeated the words, followed by a whisper of his name and squeezed her eyes tight shut. She stilled on top of him and letting out a breath of air, she whispered. "I'm going to come."

The pit of Michael’s stomach fell from his body and he was left with an almighty void filled with the pure enjoyable pressure that fought to be free. “Oh yeah, Sara…” he breathed quickly, increasing the speed he was slicking his thumb over her clitoris. “…come for me. Come for me.”

A gasp fell from Sara's lips and she took in a sharp breath as she came. "Oh yeah, Michael. . ." She pressed her forehead into his chest, trying to control her breathing. "Oh, yes. Yes. . ."

“God, Sara…” Michael groaned against her shoulder. She stilled above him when her orgasm hit her and he thrust weakly up into her when his own struck him blind a few seconds later. Her muscles spasmed around him, tugging on his erection and milking him for everything he had. He panted into her hair, cradling the back of her head with a powerful hand when his body went limp under hers. “Oh my God.”

Sara breathed into his chest, remaining silent until she got control of her erratic breathing. She stayed on top of him, letting out a quiet moan and kissing his chest. She thought for a moment, unable to come up with anything to say. "Michael."

Michael let his head rest against the sheets and gently strokes his fingers through Sara's hair. Her hair was slightly damp, as was her skin, and it stuck to his and kept them warm. "I know," he panted with a smirk.

Sara laughed quietly and rubbed her hand up and down Michael's side. She placed another kiss to his cheek and shifted on him, moving so she wasn't putting pressure on her stomach. "You know you're amazing."

Michael’s hand traced lazy shapes over her shoulders and he smiled, staring up at the ceiling. “You’re just as amazing…if not even more amazing, Sara,” he whispered, his breath still returning to normal. He looked down at her and laughed a little. “You still have paint on your face,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “Very sexy.”

"You're very silly." Sara laughed quietly, tracing the patterns of his tattoo. She had done it so many times she was sure she could do it in her sleep, or with her eyes closed. She leaned up, pressing her lips to his in a long slow kiss. "You have no idea how incredibly in love I am with you."

“I have a pretty good idea,” he grinned, kissing her slowly again.

Sara pulled away from his kiss when she felt a flutter in her stomach. Rolling off of Michael she rubbed her hand over her stomach. "We're hungry. Do you want to make us dinner?"

Michael rolled over with her and propped himself up next to her naked body. Shuffling forward towards her, lowered his lips to her stomach and kissed the tiny lump tenderly. “What do my special people have in mind?” he asked quietly and a gentle dent poked its way out of Sara’s side. “What’s that…?” Michael asked comically, pressing his ear to Sara’s stomach and give her a frown of concentration. “Oh right…okay,” he nodded and hen lifted his head to address Sara again. “He said burritos,” he smiled.

"I think you heard wrong," Sara smoothed her hand over her belly. "I think he said he wants a steak. And some potatoes." She smiled sweetly at Michael. "I think he likes your voice."

"Of course he likes my voice," Michael jeered and turned his face back to Sara's active abdomen. "I'm his daddy," he beamed proudly. "Hey, Lil’ guy..." he whispered. "...Do you like the name Roman?" he grinned, quickly sliding a glance at Sara.

"I do. . ." Sara whispered, brushing her hand through Michael's hair. "I think that's a good name for a little guy who was conceived in Italy." She sighed and relaxed onto the pillow. "Mmm, maybe we're not hungry. Maybe we're sleepy."

Michael crawled up to lay beside her and tangled his legs in hers, gently rubbing his feet against hers. He splayed his palm over her stomach protectively and tucked his chin into her shoulder. "Are you sure?" he asked sleepily. "I'll make you something if you want."

"I'm sure," Sara murmured, fluttering her eyes shut. She let out a quiet sigh and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "But if I wake up hungry at two, will you make me something?"

"Sara, you could wake up at anytime hungry, and I’d go to the ends of the earth to bring you what you wanted," Michael smiled, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

"Promise?" Sara smirked, feeling dangerously close to sleep. She yawned and placed her hand over Michael's on her stomach. "Because I plan to hold that against you."

Michael nudged further into her and let his eyelids flutter closed. "I promise," he mumbled groggily.


	36. Chapter 36

Sara walked around the house, picking up odds and ends. Her stomach was getting bigger and she was getting crankier. And more tired. Right now, she was practically bordering on exhaustion. Sighing, she moved over to the couch, sitting down and rubbing her stomach. Her son wouldn't give her a moments rest. She sighed as she saw the imprint of his foot poke through her shirt. Turning to the study, she called, "Michael, can you come in here?"

"Hmmm?" Michael called from his office, pen in mouth, pencil tucked precariously behind his ear and his glasses resting on the edge of his nose. "Are you okay?" He called as he padded down the hall. Working at home came with it's benefits and he was free from having to wear a suit and tie all day, opting instead for jeans and a loose fitting college t-shirt.

Sara sighed and pointed to her stomach, letting out a yawn. "Can you come talk to him for a minute?" She stuck out her lower lip. "Please? He always calms down when you do."

“Sure,” Michael smiled moving around the front of the couch and kneeling in front of Sara. He smoothed his hands over her knees and gently leant forward. “Hey buddy, are you being mean to mommy?” he said gently.

"He is. . ." Sara murmured, closing her eyes and laying her head back on the cushions of the couch. "I don't think he likes me very much." She winced when he gave a rather painful kick to the insides of her stomach. "I am so sick of being pregnant."

Michael smoothed his hands over the area where the baby had kicked Sara and was causing her discomfort. He didn’t know if it was helping. “I’m sorry,” Michael looked up her with wide eyes of sadness. “This is partly my fault so you can blame me,” he smiled gently. “As for you…” he scolded her bump lightly. “…stop kicking your mother.”

"It kind of scares me," Sara whispered, trailing her hand slowly over her stomach. "I mean, I read all these magazine articles about women who love being pregnant. And I mean it's nice. . ." She smiled softly, flattening her hand to her belly. "He and I are pretty good buddies right now, what, with him sharing my body and all. What if he doesn't like me so much on the outside?"

“Don’t be silly,” Michael laughed. “Of course he’ll like you. You’re his mother,” he nodded towards her. Michael tilted his head a little and gave her a thoughtful look. “What’s got you thinking this all of a sudden?” he said softly, trailing his hands down her arms.

Sara sighed and shrugged, thinking about her response carefully. "I mean, what do we know about being parents, Michael? Books and classes can only teach us so much. Look at our genes. My mom was an alcoholic, then she died. Your mom died. Your dad ran out on you. It's not like any of the foster homes you were in gave you a warm, welcome environment." She glanced down, and shook her head. "And I did everything I could think of to displease my father. What if I can't be a mom?"

“Sara,” Michael began, pushing himself to his feet and moving to sit next to her on the couch. “Remember when we were on the run? How many times you saved Linc and I when were got in over our heads?” He raised his eyebrows at her but didn’t wait for his response. “If you can look after two full grown men, a tiny little one isn’t going to be much trouble,” he smiled, taking her hand in his and locking their fingers together. “And besides, neither of us are our parents. We can do this. Hell, if Linc could do it, I’m sure we can.”

Sara felt tears well up in her eyes and she pressed her face into Michael's shoulder before he could see that she was crying. "Don't you ever wish. . ." She cleared her throat, swallowing a sob. "Do you ever wish your mom was here to be a part of this?"

Michael rested his cheek to the top of her head and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “I wish a lot of things,” he said softly, not really wanting to commit to a conversation about his mother again. “I know she’d be proud of me…of us,” he added with a soothing voice.

"Sometimes I think if my mom was here, she wouldn't even care. . ." Sara's voice trailed off and she placed her arm protectively over her stomach. "Towards the end she was. . . she was unhappy." She sniffed and pulled away, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry."

“Hey,” Michael frowned, sitting forward and resting his hand to her shoulder gently. “What’s brought all this on, huh?” he asked lovingly, rubbing his hand over her back. He pressed himself into her back and tucked his chin into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent and wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace. “You can’t back out now,” he chuckled lightly flattening his hand over hers where it rested on her stomach.

"I don't know," Sara sniffed, shaking her head. "I was just looking at pictures of me when my parents. And they looked happy, Michael. Happy. And I don't want us to turn into them. Ever."

Michael smoothed his fingers over hers as she spoke, staring at a patch at the other end of their couch idly. “We wont,” he promised sincerely. “Always, Forever,” he whispered against her skin. Their son kicking out again, three times in rapid succession interrupted their tender moment. “Hey, hey,” Michael frowned down at the bump under his hands. “He is really restless isn’t he?” he frowned, a niggling feeling creeping into his subconscious and placing a seed of worry in his mind.

"Really restless," Sara murmured, leaning over and wincing. "And it really hurts." She let out a breath of air, rubbing her stomach. "Do you think we should. . ."

"Yes I do," Michael said firmly, pushing himself to his feet and offering Sara his hand. "Come on, can you stand?" he said softly, plucking his keys from the table and shoving them into his back pocket.

Sara took Michael's hand and let him pull her off the couch. She stood for a moment, and then bent at the waist, pressing a hand to her stomach when a sharp pain shot through her side. She let out a quiet whimper. "Michael. . ."

Sara's voice was scared and pleading and for a second, Michael didn't know what to do. He rushed to the door and grabbed his coat from the rack, draping it over Sara's shoulders when he returned to her side. "Can you walk?" He asked her with panic in his voice. "Shall i call an ambulance?" he searched her face for an answer but all he got was the deep breathing and slight groaning of Sara in pain. "Lincoln?" he said, not knowing what to do. "Shall I call Linc?"

"Don't call an ambulance," Sara whispered, gabbing Michael's hand and squeezing it. "Can you drive? I need you to drive. We can call Lincoln on the way." Another pain shot through her, and she tried to compose herself. "We need to go now."

Michael nodded and supported Sara under her elbow as he guided her out towards their car. He unlocked the truck from the front door and helped Sara into the passenger side between surges of pain and cries of anguish. He ran around the front of the truck, jumping into the driver’s seat and plunging the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life and he fastened Sara’s seat belt for her, gently tucking it under her bump. “Hang on,” he told her firmly as he pushed the accelerator and turned out onto the street. He grabbed his cell from the dashboard, flipped it open and called Linc. “Come on…pick up,” he groaned at his ringing cell, shooting a glance in his rear view mirror a few times at the cars behind him.

"It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay. . . it's going to be okay. . ." Sara rubbed her stomach, and whispered the words over and over again soothingly. She wasn't sure if she was talking more to herself or her son. She reached over, squeezing Michael's leg with her free hand before placing it on her stomach too. A tear rolled down her cheek. "It's going to be okay."

Michael’s heart pounded in his chest and his skin tingled when Sara rested her hand to his leg, digging in her fingers as she tried to fight off the pain. Finally, as they stopped at traffic lights, much to Michael’s anger, Lincoln answered his phone. “Linc!” Michael screamed into the handset. “Uh…we need you…your help,” he babbled, willing the traffic lights to change again. “You need to meet us at the hospital.”

"What are you talking about?" Lincoln demanded. He tossed his keys on the table; he had just gotten in and he had to get ready for a date. "The hospital? Are you okay?" He paused. "Is it the baby?"

"Yes!" Michael said desperately as Sara groaned again beside him. "Hold on, baby," he whispered to her. "Hold on."

Lincoln picked his keys back up, hurrying outside into his truck. "What's going on, Mike? What's wrong?"

Michael shook his head quickly and held his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he turned at a junction. “I don’t know…” he whispered, his voice cracking a little with emotion. “The baby was restless and now Sara’s in so much pain…please Linc, hurry.”

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Lincoln promised. He lowered his voice. "Listen, Michael. I know you're scared, okay? But you need to listen to me. You need to stay calm. You need to tell Sara it's going to be okay. How's she doing?"

Michael looked at Sara, hunched over in the seat next to him and the tears staining her face. "Uh..." Michael froze up, absolutely petrified. He couldn't answer Linc or say anything to Sara. He briefly remembered he was driving and returned his gaze to the road, cursing the hospital for being so far away.

"Michael!" Lincoln raised his voice. "Pay fucking attention to me." He turned off onto a different street, cutting someone off. "Be strong for your wife."

Michael blinked a few times and Lincoln’ voice rang through, shaking him awake. He turned to Sara, dropping his cell phone into his lap. “It’s going to be okay,” he soothed, gripping her hand in his. “It’s going to be okay,” he choked out, his breath catching in his throat and his eyes pricking with tears.

Sara squeezed his hand, bringing it up to her mouth and brushing her lips across his knuckles. She took a deep breath, and nodded. "Our little boy is fine." As soon as she said the words a sob shook her body.

Michael reluctantly slipped his hands from hers and grabbed his phone again, pressing it to his ear. “Linc, we’re here,” he said urgently, pulling into the emergency parking bay. “Find us,” he said and flipped the phone closed. The truck skidded to a halt and he jumped from his seat and rushed into the reception, calling for the nearest nurse. “My wife…” he stumbled over his words. “…our baby is distressed. She’s in pain,” he told a petite nurse who rushed out ahead of him with a wheel chair.

Sara sat down in the wheel chair and immediately reached for Michael's hand. She continued her slow rubbing of her stomach, followed by the whispers of, "It's going to be okay." The nurse led them into a room, and informed them that a doctor would be right with them.

Michael held Sara’s hand to his lips and helped her lay down on the bed. She wiggled uncomfortably and winced every now and then. “It’s going to be okay, Sara,” Michael said with a panicked nodding motion. “He’s just trying to scare us,” he laughed nervously, stroking her hair from her brow and rubbing her tears away with his thumb. “I promise it’s going to be okay.”

Sara nodded slowly, wanting desperately to believe Michael's words. It would have been easier if he had looked a little more sure of himself, and less scared. She gripped loosely onto Michael's shirt, and pulled him towards her. "I love you, okay? No matter what. More than anything. No matter what. I love you."

Michael let out another nervous laugh and pressed his forehead to hers. “I love you too,” he whispered and pressed his lips to hers. The door to the room flew open and a middle aged woman with dark brown hair and glasses burst in.

“Okay, Sara?” she looked up from her noted and offered them a smile. “I’m Dr. Darlow. I’m covering for Dr. Greene,” she said and moved to Sara’s side. “What’s going on with this little guy then?” She said, snapping on a pair of gloves and lifting Sara’s shirt to palpate her abdomen and feel where the baby was lying.

Before either Sara or Michael could say anything, a shout resounded from the hallway. "I don't care what the hell your policy is! I'm their brother. Do you want me to look in every room? Because I will. I will open every door until I find them!"

“Excuse me,” Michael said and reluctantly dropped Sara’s hand. “I’ll be right back, baby,” he said, smoothing his hand over her forehead and planting a kiss there before leaving the room. He stepped out into the hall and looked one way, finding nothing. His name in a gruff voice caught his attention and he spun to see Lincoln storming down the hall toward him. “Linc,” Michael breathed and rushed into his brother’s arms, needing to feel safe like he always had when he was younger.

"Hey, buddy," Lincoln muttered soothingly. He hugged Michael for a minute before pulling away. "So where's your wife and this nephew of mine? I know he's excited to meet me but we're going to have to tell him that he's going to have to wait a few more months."

Michael let our a breath and smiled, wiping his eyes with a shaky hand. “He uh…” Michael burst into tears again, looking from his brother and running his hands over his head through his short cropped hair.

"Hey, hey. . ." Lincoln led Michael into a corner away from the hustle and bustle of the crowded hospital. He squeezed Michael's shoulder, nodding soothingly. "He's going to be okay. He's your son. He's strong."

Michael nodded and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. “I can’t do this,” he sobbed. “What if…what if he’s not okay, Linc?” he mumbled pointing towards the room Sara was in. “They are never safe until they are born,” he choked out, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"You can do this, and you're going to do it," Lincoln told him firmly. He took Michael by the shoulders. "And if he's not okay, Michael? Then you're there for Sara, and you two get through this together, alright?" He softened his tone. "But he's going to be okay. He's going to be okay and a few months from now you're gong to be holding him in your arms and today will totally be forgotten."

At his brother’s words, Michael ceased his sobbing and wiped his eyes quickly. “Sara said to call you. She wants us both here,” Michael said in a strained voice. “Come on,” he said, leading Lincoln into the room and moving back to her side. The doctor had taken another scan of the baby and was happy everything was fine.

”Sara, have you had any other symptoms lately? Like itching for example?” Dr. Darlow said casually.

"A little, I guess?" Sara glanced from the doctor to where Michael and Lincoln had entered the room. She gave them both a tight smile and leaned her head to Lincoln, allowing him to kiss her head. She smiled weakly at the doctor. "We're still not sure which one's the father."

Michael looked at the doctor seriously and shook his head. “She’s kidding,” he smiled and then eyed his brother. “She’d better be,” he joked, nudging Lincoln with his shoulder.

Dr. Darlow smiled and let a laugh escape her lips but it was short lived. “Sara, I’d like to do a liver test, because of the itching.”

“What? Why? What does that mean?” Michael spluttered, looking between Sara and the doctor nervously. “You said he was fine.”

"Michael. . ." Sara said softly, placing her hand on Michael's arm. She squeezed gently, and smiled at him. "How about you just let the doctor do what she thinks is best for him?" She turned to Lincoln. "Now that we know everything is okay, why don't you two go get a coffee? Thank you for coming."

“It’s just a precaution for a condition some pregnant women can get called Intrahepatic Cholestasis of Pregnancy, or ICP. It’s rare in the US but we’ll still test for it,” the doctor smiled and nodded to assure him. “I doubt very much Sara has it, but it’s better safe than sorry Mr. Scofield.”

Michael pressed his lips to a now relaxed Sara’s lips and nodded to her obediently. “I’ll be right outside, okay?” he said softly leaving her side and following Lincoln out of the room. He stopped his brother with a gentle hand to his shoulder. “Thanks Lincoln.”

"Hey, it's what I'm here for. . ." Lincoln nodded slowly. He smiled at Michael and headed in the direction of the cafeteria. "I will have you know, however, that I am missing an opportunity to get laid to be here with you."

Michael laughed and shook his head. “She wouldn’t have slept with you,” he told him with a grin. “I could tell,” he said with a wry smile. “She was all over the fact you were in prison, but I doubt she would even remember your name…even if she was screaming it later,” he winked.

"Hey man, sex is sex." Lincoln smirked and shook his head. "I'm not looking for a marriage. I just want some sex." He looked at Michael seriously. "You okay?"

Michael nodded slowly and looked to his feet. "Joking is a way of dealing, you know?" he said sadly. "We still have to wait for this test to come back and then make it another two months."

"He's going to be okay," Lincoln told him seriously. He stopped walked and leaned against a wall as a nurse whizzed passed. "You know that, right? You believe that?"

Michael sighed and rubbed his hand over her jaw. “I want to,” he said. “I really do, but bad things tend to happen to good people,” he said looking up at his brother again. “You know that.” He dug his hands into his pockets and hefted another sigh. “LLI doesn’t help my imagination either, Linc. It’s running riot with scenarios and not one of them ends happily.”

"Come on, buddy. . ." Lincoln shook his head. "I know that things have ended badly a lot for you. But no one deserves to be happy more than you or Sara." He sighed quietly. "You're telling me not one scenario ends in a healthy baby boy? Who looks just like you, but hopefully has Sara's personality? With you two taking him home to that blue room, and being awake all night, every night, and loving every single second of it?" Lincoln smiled softly. "Just imagine how it's going to feel the first time you hold him in your arms and you know that you made him, Michael. That a little part of you is him, and it always will be."

“Sara’s personality?” Michael frowned with a smile. “What’s wrong with mine?” he protested weakly.

Lincoln rolled his eyes. "Come on, Michael. I pull a speech out from the depths of my heart to give to you. I try to bestow some wisdom on my baby brother. To try to hold up the guy who’s been holding me up my whole life. . . and that's all you get from it?"

Michael pulled Lincoln into a crushing hug, sighing into his shoulder. “I got all of it,” he whispered. He pulled himself from Lincoln’s body and gave him a confident smile. “We are going to call him Roman, you know…after Italy.”

"I know you are. And I'm sure he'll love his name." Lincoln smiled sincerely. "It's good you guys went to Italy. It did you both good. I was worried about you, I didn't like where you two were headed." He nodded. "You both seem really happy lately though. Everything's good?"

"Yeah, I can't complain," Michael smiled, taking a seat in the cafeteria with his steaming cup of coffee in front of him. "Pregnancy has...well, it's definitely made one of us permanently horny, and one of us permanently tired," he laughed, staring down at the steam as it wafted from his brown liquid.

Lincoln laughed quietly, shaking his head and blowing into his coffee. "When Lisa was pregnant she didn't want my anywhere near her." He paused. "Are you scared? About actually being a dad?"

“Not as much as I thought I would be. I’m excited,” Michael grinned boyishly. “I can’t wait to hold him, and feed him, and teach him to walk and talk and then palm him off on you when we want some action,” he laughed heartily and sipped his boiling hot coffee.

Lincoln laughed loudly and tossed back his head. It was good to see Michael go from so panicked to so happy. "You know, the first night Sara's away from him she's probably going to call me every 20 minutes, right? And that you probably actually won't get any because she'll want to rush back and pick him up."

“Gee, thanks,” Michael said sarcastically. He took another long gulp of his coffee and swallowed the bitter liquid awkwardly. “You know, Sara’s afraid he won’t like her when he is born.”

"Really?" Lincoln glanced towards him surprised. "She's Sara. How could anyone not like her? Especially the baby that's been living inside her for all these months. Women are weird, man. It's why I just do sex."

“Marriage is great. Being married to Sara is great. For all the things we’ve been through, I wouldn’t change it for the world,” Michael said with pride, giving his brother a happy smile.

"Yeah, but you're you and I'm me," Lincoln shook his head. "I only should have gotten married once ever and I screwed that up. So. I'm stuck with what I'm stuck with now." He paused and looked at Michael seriously. "You're going to be a great dad. You know that, right? I don't know if I've ever told you."

Michael smiled at him and felt something tug in his chest. He knew Lincoln wished he had sorted out his life and married Veronica, and she had died for him. The ultimate sacrifice is always love. "You've told me now," Michael gave him a quick smile before lifting his coffee to his lips again.

"Good." Lincoln gave him a gruff nod, and glanced towards the clock. "You'd better go check on your wife. See how that son that might be mine is doing."

Michael let out a burst of laughter and pushed himself to his feet. He patted Lincoln on the shoulder as he brushed past him and sighed apologetically. “You wish Sara would sleep with you, Linc,” he winked and left the cafeteria for Sara’s room. His shoes squeaked on the floor as he walked down the shiny tiled hall, silently counting the ratio of white to green tiles in his head. He stopped, tapped on the door gently before entering and then poked his head around the door with a smile.

Sara sat on the bed, her arms wrapped around her stomach. She was bent over, cooing lovingly to her unborn son. "You shouldn't do that to Mommy and Daddy again, okay? We love you and we were so worried. Don't scare us like that. We need you to be okay." She glanced up when she heard a sound from the door.

"Hey," Michael greeted in a soothing voice, slipping through the door completely and moving to press his lips against hers. He rested his hand to Sara's stomach and rubbed the bump lovingly. "Is everyone okay?" he said, noticing the doctor gone and Sara with a discharge leaflet.

Sara cupped his face in her hands and smiled softly. She kissed him again and nodded. "Yeah. We're both good." A quiet laugh escaped her. "It feels good to say that out loud. He's going to be fine, but. . ."

Michael lost his smile and he gripped her hands as she held his face. "...but?" he said panicked, his eyes flickering over her face searching for the answer.

"But it looks like me and this little guy are going to be spending a lot of time in bed." Sara rolled her eyes. "So you're going to have to pay us a lot of attention, okay? I'm going make you move the big TV into the bedroom, and you're going to have to read to me." She smiled, kissing him again. "And you'll have to help me take baths."

Michael grinned at her and pressed his lips to hers again. “Not a problem,” he smiled.


	37. Chapter 37

Sara sat in bed, the remote in her hand. She let out a sigh, and turned the TV off, letting her head fall back on the pillow. Michael was downstairs working, and she was bored. If she had to watch the Soap Opera network for half a second longer she was pretty sure she'd end up jumping out the window. She was sick of reading, she was sick of eating, she was sick of resting. She sighed again and turned, picking up her cell phone. She dialled a number, and Lincoln answered on the second ring. "Quick. I need your help!"

“What, why?” Lincoln said quickly. His tone was excited, a sudden surge of adrenaline rushing his body as he contemplated becoming an uncle. Michael was an uncle and he was a father, now it was time to turn he tables. “Is it the baby?” He asked hurriedly, searching his kitchen for his car keys.

"Yes. Well, partly." Sara told her seriously. She moved up on the bed, smoothing a hand over her stomach. "We are very bored, and your brother is driving us crazy."

Lincoln relaxed a little and let out a quiet laugh. He twirled his keys in his hands, letting them flip over his finger while he studied them. “What’s he doing now?” he said with a smile.

"He's working. . ." Sara muttered. She raised her voice. "He's working and leaving us in bed all alone with nothing but soap operas. And I really, really hate soap operas." She smiled. "Who wants to take their favourite sister-in-law out for some ice cream?"

“Sara,” Lincoln warned lightly. “You can’t leave the house. Doctor’s orders, you know that,” he grinned but his heart bled out for her having to watch soap operas all day. “I can bring you ice cream? And you‘re my only sister-in-law by the way.”

"I'm still your favourite! And that is technically untrue because there was a sister-in-law that came before me!" Sara announced triumphantly. "And the doctor said that me and the baby need some exercise. We just can't be walking around for a long time. Come on. I'll stay in the car!"

“Hey,” Lincoln protested weakly. “Ix-nay on the Nika-ay.” He said slowly. “Sara, I really think…” he began, but Sara’s desperate, hormonal voice cut him off.

"Lincoln Burrows! I need out of this bed! And I need out of this house! And I swear to God if you don't get over here right now, I will kill you." She cleared her throat and dropped her voice to a softer tone. "Okay, sweetie?"

Lincoln’s cheeks flushed red and he gulped nervously. “Okay, okay,” he said softly. “I’ll be right over, but so help me, if Michael catches us, I will put all blame on the one of us that is with child. Got it?” He pointed to his phone receiver, emphasising his point as he pulled his front door closed and awkwardly shrugged on his jacket with one hand.

"I love you! I love you!" Sara sang joyously. "And the baby loves you too, see?" She held the phone to her stomach and cooed in a baby voice. "I looooove you, Uncle Linc!" She brought the phone back up to her ear and grinned. "How can you say no to that?"

Lincoln rolled his eyes and shook his head as he got into his car. "Just..." he sighed, starting the engine and putting the car in drive. "...just try not to be too obvious with all the joy," he said. "We are so dead," he breathed to himself as the car lurched forward and into the flow of traffic.

"Thank you! We'll be waiting here!" Sara hung up the phone and hoisted herself out of bed, moving over to the closet to drag out some fresh clothes. After changing and pulling her hair into a pony tail, she studied her appearance. In her opinion, she looked pretty good pregnant. She hadn't filled out in many places other than her stomach and her breast. She patted her large bulge and grinned, "You've been good to me."

The car ride to Michael and Sara’s house was almost nothing. In fact, Lincoln could have walked, had he not been commissioned to take his very pregnant, very stressed and very convincing sister-in-law out. Correction. He was sneaking her out, against her husband’s wishes for which he would pay dearly for, he was sure. He parked, closed the car door quietly and bounded up the steps to their house, letting himself in with the key he had been given, for emergencies. This was an emergency in his opinion. His manhood depended on getting the pregnant Sara out of the house, and he was rather attached to it, so he let himself in without question.

Sara stood waiting for Lincoln at the bottom of the stairs. She waved silently and tiptoed over to him, motioning towards the study. "Michael's working. For all we know, he won't come up for air for another six hours, so I think we're safe."

Lincoln nodded and took her by the elbow. “Shhh…” he sounded with a frown, pressing his finger to his lips as he did so and helping her sneak past the study.

“Sara?” Michael called from inside the study when he saw a shadow move outside his door. “Are you up?” he asked, moving towards the door and pulling it open. Sara and Lincoln froze in their tracks but did not turn around to look at him. “What the…? Lincoln!” Michael growled at his brother, crossing his arms over his chest and making Lincoln turn to him slowly.

”Michael…” he said sheepishly.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Michael said, looking at Sara with a scowl.

"Michael. . ." Sara drew out the first syllable of his name and shook her head. She pointed to her stomach. "Don't say h - e - l - l. Tiny ears, remember?" She glanced towards Lincoln. "We were just going to get some ice cream. Want to come?"

“I don’t think so,” Michael shook his head and moved towards her. “Come on, back to bed you,” he tugged gently on her arm.

“Michael…” Lincoln protested on Sara’s behalf, but Michael spun to him with a menacing point of his finger.

“Don’t even start, Linc. You are in so much trouble when I get back,” Michael told him sternly.

“This is my fault?” Lincoln wailed. “If you didn’t keep your wife shacked up in bed, she wouldn’t need to beg me to come rescue her!”

Michael spun to face Sara again, his face twisted with a frown. “What?” he said quickly, shaking his head.

Sara cast a scowl to Lincoln then turned back to Michael. "Come on, Michael. The doctor said we needed to be up some. And I'm so bored. The baby is so bored!" She put her hand on Michael's arm and squeezed gently. "Don't be mad at Linc. I threatened him with his life."

"It's true,” Lincoln nodded quickly. "And she is so much scarier than being on the run, I swear to God."

"You need rest," Michael told her urgently. "You don't have long to go now, just a few more weeks and you can go for all the ice cream you want..." he cast a seething glance towards Lincoln. "...with my brother."

"Well, I would have asked you if I thought you would take me, Michael!" Sara told him. She cast an apologetic smile towards Linc. "You take everything to the extreme. It's good you want me to rest, but I am going absolutely insane." She crossed her arms and gave him a look. "And I know you're sick of sitting around with me."

“I am not!” Michael roared. “I have to work, Sara.”

"Uh...guys," Lincoln interrupted, but his words were unheard.

Sara raised her voice and pointed to Lincoln. "I am going with him, whether you want me to or not!" She moved towards Lincoln. "It's not like you can pick me up and carry me upstairs!"

“I could,” Lincoln beamed triumphantly, wrapping his arm around Sara’s waist.

“Shut up!” Michael bellowed at his brother. “Sara, what if something happens? You’re not thinking about this,” Michael pleaded with her but his voice was full of anger and rumbled through their bodies and the house.

Sara opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off when she felt it again. The tiny little pinch in her stomach she'd been having all morning. She pressed three fingers against the area of her stomach and made a small noise, waiting for it to stop. This time it lasted a little bit longer and hurt a little bit worse.

“Sara?” Michael said worried, instantly moving towards her. “Are you okay?”

Lincoln pulled his hand from her body quickly, holding them both up in front of him in defense as his brother advanced on them, “I never touched her,” he said quickly.

Michael shot him a glance. “Just, grow up Lincoln. For one second, stop with the jokes,” Michael snapped, turning his attention back to Sara who had winced painfully again. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Sara glanced up at Michael, letting out a breath she had been holding. She squeezed his arm and laughed nervously. "I think I'm having contractions?"

“The baby’s coming?” Lincoln announced excitedly, jumping up on the spot and clapping. Michael shot him another glance and he stopped, clearing his throat. “Sorry.”

“The baby’s coming?” Michael asked Sara’s hunched figure softly and Lincoln stood up straight and frowned at him. How was it okay for him to ask the same question he had, the only difference being the excited bouncing? “Is it time?” Michael smoothed his hand over her shoulders while she gripped his other arm with a shaky fist.

"It's time." Sara stood straighter and smoothed a hand over her stomach. All of her nervousness and fear was replaced by excitement when she met Michael's eyes. "Are you ready to have this baby?"

Michael smiled at her and cupped her face in his hands. “To be fair, I’m not the one giving birth,” he grinned and swallowed a lump down his throat. He pressed his lips to hers and turned to look an expectant Lincoln. “Take Sara to the car and start it up,” he told him and turned back to Sara, smoothing his thumb over her cheeks. “I’ll get your bag,” he kissed her again and bounded up the stairs.

Sara turned to Lincoln and gave him a wary smile. She laughed quietly and turned, moving to open the front door. "So, on a scale of 1-10 how much is he going to flip out during this delivery?"

Lincoln pressed his lips together and quirked an eyebrow. “Let me see…there is going to be blood, disorder and screaming…” he laughed a little and helped her down the steps. “…Your scale isn’t high enough,” he chuckled.

"Maybe he'll shock us?" Sara suggested quietly. "Maybe he'll be completely calm and rational and keep things under control." She smiled at Linc. "He's been waiting for this day for a long time."

Lincoln let out a hearty laugh. “Maybe, but don’t forget who he is,” he told her lightly, opening the car door for her and helping her lower herself into the seat. He stood back up and thought for a second. “Actually, he’s probably got this all prepared and tattooed on his ass or something.”

Sara let out a breathy laugh. "You're probably right. If anyone is going to be prepared for this its Michael." She glanced back towards the front door and felt something tighten in her chest. "The next time I come home I'll have a baby."

Lincoln slid into he drivers seat next to her and looked up at the door when Michael pulled it closed and mad his way to the car. “Yes you will,” he said softly, turning he key over and letting the classic Mustang roar to life. “I won’t be the baby any more,” he gave her wink and a pouted face.

“Okay,” Michael panted, slamming the rear door as he entered. “I got it, let’s go.”

"We have everything?" Sara turned towards the back seat to face him. She reached for him and offered him her hand. "You look nervous."

A slip of doubt entered Michael’s mind as Lincoln pulled into the traffic. “I think I got everything,” he said, taking her hand in his and shuffling forward on the bench type seat so he was pressed against the back of her front seat. He gave her twitch of a smile and pressed his lips to hers quickly. “I’m excited,” he beamed, rubbing his hand over hers. “This is my son.”

"Our son," Sara teased. She met his lips in another kiss, gently tracing her finger down his cheek. "We're going to meet him tonight."

Michael nodded and kissed her eagerly again. Lincoln let a chuckle escape his lips as he pulled into the hospital car park. “Last time you two made out in my car, you nearly ended up with kids. How ironic,” he shook his head with more laughter and the car pulled to a stop. Lincoln and Michael erupted from the olive green metal box and both moved to help Sara out of her side of the car with a gentle lifting motion.

“Careful…” Michael said softly, taking her by the elbow while Lincoln mirrored him on the other side of her body.

“Breathe…remember, breathe…” Lincoln told her with a playful smile.

"You guys!" Sara pulled away from them slightly, giving Lincoln a stern look. She placed a hand on her stomach and stopped walking. "I'm going to be expelling a person from my body tonight. I am perfectly capable of walking by myself. Really." She glanced to Michael. "I'm going to be okay."

Both of the men let her go as she stormed off into the hospital entrance. They gave each other a confused look and shrug, following her closely. They were shown to a ward and other expectant mothers and fathers gave the trio a confused glance as they entered and Sara settled into the bed. Some nurses bustled around her and strapped a baby heart monitor to her bump, the tiny, speedy heartbeat filling the room.

Sara sat on the bed, keeping her eyes on the baby's heart monitor. The baby's was faster than hers, and she rubbed her stomach, her mind racing. She turned to say something to Michael, but another contraction hit her first. This one was much more painful than any of her previous contractions.

Lincoln turned from the scene as a nurse felt under Sara’s sheet and checked to see how dilated she was. He cleared his throat and offered a proud smile to a couple opposite who stared at him with a frown. “She’s having my baby,” he said with a wink, turning back to join Sara and Michael when he heard the nurse disappear. The couple stared at the three of them; Sara’s hand clutched tightly in Michael’s and Lincoln, the supposed father, standing idly by watching the tiny beep of the baby’s heartbeat.

“Linc,” Michael said softly. “You have to stop telling people that,” he smiled a little, giving his brother a disbelieving glance.

Sara laughed quietly. "Now, Lincoln. Come on. You know there's a chance Michael's the father." She relaxed back against the pillow, fluttering her eyes shut. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see the size of this baby's neck." She squeezed Michael's hand again then brought it to her lips, giving it a soft kiss.

Michael chuckled against Sara’s hand as he bought it to his lips once more, smoothing his fingers over her soft, downy forearm. Lincoln’s eyebrows knitted together on his forehead and he casually moved a hand to rub the back of his neck, feeling its size without being really obvious about it.

“How frequent are the contractions?” Michael asked Sara softly, running his hand over her brow and stroking her hair from her face. She already looked exhausted from flinching alone.

"About every half hour?" Sara nodded slowly. "Not too often yet. They'll get worse. A lot worse." A nervous laugh escaped before she could stop it. "So you'd better be prepared."

"I'm prepared," Michel said proudly and Lincoln muffled a laugh behind him. Lincoln pointed to his behind and mouthed 'tattoo' at Sara, who laughed. "Did I miss something?" Michael asked nervously, glancing between them.

Sara laughed again and was saved from answering when Dr. Greene walked into the room, Sara's paperwork in hand. She smiled at the couple, and looked to the fetal heart monitor, making a few notes. "So, it looks like Baby Boy Scofield has decided to grace us with his presence a few weeks early?" She and Sara shared a smile and Dr. Greene continued on. "You're doing good, Sara. Everything's right where it should be. He should be here before the night is over." She glanced between Michael and Sara. "Did you two ever make a final decision about drugs? An epidural? An IV of Nubain?"

Michael glanced at Sara confused. "Did we?" he quirked an eyebrow. "I mean, I don't care. It's your body that will be hurting," he smiled.

Lincoln muffled another laugh. "You'll be hurting just as much my friend," he patted his brother on the shoulder hard. "Trust me."

Sara cast a glare towards Lincoln, then turned back to Michael. "I thought we decided it wasn't a good idea?" She bit her bottom lip, knowing that she was being a little silly and over-protective and too worried, but she didn't care. "I don't want my baby coming out an addict."

“Sara,” Michael scolded lightly, pushing himself to his feet and planting a kiss to her forehead. “Whatever you decide, baby,” he smiled sweetly, resting his forehead against hers.

"No drugs. We can do this naturally." She smiled at Michael, then frowned when Lincoln started laughing. "What?"

“Oh, nothing,” he shook his head quickly, not being able to shift the smile on his face. “Ask me again next time you have kids and the doctor asks if you want pain meds,” he winked.

Sara turned and gave Michael a sweet smile. "Honey. Get your brother out of this room or I promise you. . . I will hurt you both."

Michael kissed her hand again and stood to confront Lincoln. “What?” Lincoln protested and Michael grabbed his elbow and led him from the room. “I’ll be good!” he wailed playfully. The couple that had stared at him earlier eyed him suspiciously as the two men left the room. “I am the father you know,” he nodded at them but Michael shoved his shoulders hard and expelled him from the room.

Sara watched as the other woman's doctor came in. They pulled the curtain, and a few minutes later, the woman was being wheeled out of the room and towards delivery. Sara turned to Michael, making a face. "I want to have my baby now."

“It won’t be long,” he assured her with a smile. “What did Dr. Greene say?” he asked when he noticed the doctor was gone. He plucked Sara’s chart from the end of her bed and handed it to her. “Talk doctor to me,” he smiled and perched next to her on the bed.

"She said that I could have drugs if I wanted them and that I shouldn't worry. . ." Sara's voice trailed off. "And she said that everything looked good and that while it's early, it's okay. It's not too early. He's a big boy." She let out a nervous laugh. "Okay. Time to get scared?"

"How big?" Michael felt nervous for her. "Like, too big for a natural birth?" He asked worriedly.

"Nope." Sara shook her head. "She said if he had been on time, we probably would have had to do a c-section so it's good he's a little early." She winced as another knot tightened in her abdomen. Leaning forward, she took a deep breath.

“Pain scale for that one was?” Michael asked her, rubbing his hand up and down her back while she was hunched forward. “What can I do?” he asked helplessly. “I feel redundant.”

"A five?" Sara suggested weakly. She gave Michael a sympathetic smile and shrugged. "Baby, there's not much either of us can do right now. Except wait. You and Linc can get something to eat if you want."

“Are you allowed to eat anything? Do you want anything? A burrito?” he smiled at her before cupping her face in his hand and pressing his lips to hers. “Mmm, hospital food,” he teased with a deep, smooth voice.

"I'm not allowed to eat anything," Sara shook her head slowly. "But you can go on." She gestured around the room. "We'll be right here waiting."

“Don’t have any kids without me,” he pressed another smile to hers and tucked her hair behind her ear tenderly. His hand dropped to her stomach and rubbed his hand over the stretched skin lovingly. He moved to press his lips to it and smiled against her skin. “Be good for your mother,” Michael said to her bump.

  
Sara nodded slowly when Dr. Greene said it was time to push, half relieved-half panicked. She tried to take a breath, but another contraction hit and she squeezed her eyes shut tightly, trying to get through the pain. All logic left as she glanced over at Michael. "This is all your fault."

Sara had been trying for a little over eight hours to push their son into the world and Michael was pacing with his hands on his head. He tried not to panic but eight hours was a long time and however much he thought he’d prepared, he really had no idea. Lincoln was waiting just outside and Sara’s cries echoed through the halls. “My fault?” Michael objected weakly, not wanting to anger her further. “We both wanted children,” he sad softly.

"It's your fault. . ." Sara informed him again, shaking her head. She looked over to him. "I want the drugs, okay? I need the drugs. I am a . . . drug person!" The doctor interrupted her, gently informing Sara that there was a certain window when drugs were accessible, and now the window was closed. Sara looked at Michael. "You closed the window!"

Michael stared at her but he couldn't reply. His mouth fell open and he tried, but the words wouldn't come out. He clamped a hand over his mouth and his thoughts fell void as he watched Sara struggle and her fists turn white against the bed. Her entire body shook and she panted to hard he thought she might faint from lack of oxygen. "Sara..." he soothed , moving to her side. It was all he could say as his own body began to shake.

"Don't Sara me!" Sara snapped. Dr. Greene pressed a hand to one of Sara's knees.

"Sara, there's a contraction coming, and when you feel it, I need you to push, okay?"

Sara felt a surge of panic course through her, and she glanced over at Michael, biting her bottom lip. "It's time."

“Okay,” Michael nodded, gulping nervously. He smoothed his hands over Sara’s bare forearms and searched her sweaty face for a sign she wasn’t really mad at him. “What can I do?” he whispered to her.

"I think you have already done enough!" Sara snapped, shaking her head at him. She motioned to the bed. "Unless you want to get in here and have the baby for me? Would you like to do that? Can you do that? Didn't think so!"

“Sara…I’m sorry,” Michael offered weakly. Nope. No amount of preparation could have prepared him for this and now he understood what Lincoln had meant. His brother’s sarcastic laughter echoed in his ears but it was soon drowned out by Sara’s screams of agony when her contraction hit her and she began pushing.

Sara reached for Michael's arm, squeezing onto him as she pushed. She hadn't expected it to be easy. She had spent many sleepless nights imagining it. But nothing had been like this. She took a deep breath and fell back against the pillows.

Dr. Greene looked at her. "Sara, I need you to push harder."

Michael listened to the doctor’s words and nodded towards Sara. “Come on, baby. You have to push harder,” he coaxed gently, reaching out to brush a strand of damp hair from her dewy forehead.

Sara took a deep breath and pushed again, squeezing onto Michael's hand tightly. She let out a cry and squeezed her eyes shut. It didn't feel like she was making any progress. "I can't."

"Yes, you can," Michael soothed, rubbing his hand over hers roughly. "You have to," he said desperately, his breath catching in his throat.

"I can't push. . . harder!" Sara exclaimed, squeezing onto Michael even tighter as she pushed. Tears rushed to her eyes, and Dr. Greene exclaimed. "We have a head! With a lot of black hair."

Michael let out a gasp of joy and felt his tears prick up behind his eyelids. He blinked rapidly quickly wiping his hand across his eyes. "Good girl," he told Sara softly, stroking her hair off her forehead. "I'm so proud of you," he breathed against her ear, kissing the side of her forehead.

"Yeah, well. . ." Sara tried to think of a snappy comeback but was at a loss. Another contraction seized her and she pushed again before letting out an exhausted sigh.

Dr. Greene looked from Michael to Sara. "Come on, Sara. One more really hard push."

“One more..." Michael repeated, gripping her hand tightly and rubbing his hand down the tired muscles in her thigh. "Come on, Sara," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. "I love you," he breathed, letting his tears blur his vision and roll down his cheeks slowly.

Sara was about to put up a weak protest that should could not push once more, especially not harder, but she just met Michael's gaze and merely nodded. Squeezing his hand and grabbing onto the bed rail on the other side of her bed, she took a deep breath and pushed as hard as she could. A moment later, a cry rang out, and Dr. Greene called out happily, "You've got yourselves a little boy!"

"Oh my god, Sara, look," Michael laughed excitedly as Dr. Greene laid their tiny newborn son to Sara's chest. Michael laid a giant hand to his bare, shivering skin and held him to his mother, letting his body warm his sons. "Our son..." he gasped, capturing her lips in a long, slow kiss. His blue eyes shimmered over the baby, his tiny hands clutching at the fabric of her gown and his bottom lip quivering as he cried.

"Hi there, little buddy. . ." Sara murmured, not even trying to blink back the tears that threatened to fall. She pulled him closer to his chest as he wailed. "Well, it's good to meet you too!"

Michael laid his hands over Sara's and hugged his son to them both. He perched on the edge of the bed and pulled her to him, pressing his head to hers. "Hey little guy," he soothed to the baby with a widened smile. "I'm your daddy," he said, feeling his chest swell with pride at the word. The little baby let out a new cry and grabbed for Michael's finger. "Yes I am," Michael cooed with a chuckle. Michael turned back to Sara and caught her tired hazel gaze. "I'm so proud of you," he smiled and pressed his lips to hers.

Sara laughed softly against his mouth before pulling away and staring down at their baby. "Look at him, Michael. He's so perfect." She brushed her lips across their son's forehead. "Yes, you are. You're so, so perfect."

"Yes, he is," Michael agreed with a breath of pride. Michael looked up from their son and flashed a glance at the door. "Hey," he caught Sara's attention softly. "I'm going to tell Linc, you'll be okay for a second?" he said, his male pride getting the better of him and urging him to go a gloat to his brother.

"Yeah. . ." Sara nodded and glanced up at him, leaning to brush her lips across his. "We're good. I love you." She glanced back down at the baby and dropped her voice. "We both love you. Tell Daddy you'll see him in a little while."

Michael pressed his lips to his son’s forehead and the baby wiggled a little. "I love you," he smiled and then turned his attention to Sara as he stood up. He smoothed his hand down her back, tickling at her skin under the gown and met her lips with another slow kiss. "I love you, baby," he smiled and gave her hand a squeeze before stepping from the room. Lincoln jumped up from his seat and ran towards Michael, the sudden silence in the room having worried him.

"How's Sara? Is everything okay? We've been here for what, like 9 hours? Is she okay?" Lincoln rushed out a series of questions, each tripping over the other. He fell silent when he saw the look on Michael's face, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You're a dad."

Michael looked at his feet and pushed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. He smiled and it stayed on his lips when he looked back up to his brother. "Yeah, I am," he laughed a little, still not understanding the situation. "I got a boy," he breathed, overwhelmed by the words as they left his mouth.

“You got a boy!" Lincoln exclaimed loudly and smacked his baby brother on the back. "You have a son!" Lincoln grabbed Michael and pulled him into a tight hug. "God, Michael. You have a baby."

Michael threw his arms around his brother and hugged him tightly. When he pulled back, Michael pressed his palms to his eyes and wiped away more his tears. "Just over eight pounds," Michael beamed. "And he was early!"

Lincoln laughed softly and shook his head. "Big boy, huh?" He smirked and crossed his arms. "Told you he was my kid."

Michael shook his head and grinned through his laugh. "No way man, his neck is normal sized," he smirked. "He's just a Burrows-Scofield boy...and I don't mean in the respect he has both our genes Lincoln."

Lincoln smiled and nodded slowly. "Ten fingers, ten toes? Does he have hair? What color are his eyes? How'd Sara do?"

"Everything is so perfect," he breathed. "He's got blue eyes, so that's not a definitive way of telling," he smirked again, motioning between his and Lincoln's. "And a full head of black hair." He breathed in, his chest puffing out with more pride. "Sara did so well. I'm so proud of her."

"Good. . ." Lincoln murmured, nodding slowly. He couldn't help but smile at how animated Michael looked. He hesitated, then took a brand new, bright white envelope out of his back pocket. In it sat a smaller, yellowed envelope with Michael's name on it, a letter inside. "Listen, Mike. . . this is for you."

Michael frowned and took the envelope. "What's this?" he asked, turning the envelope over in his hands to inspect the other side.

"When, ah --" Lincoln cleared his throat and shook his head. "Mom left two letter in a safety deposit box. She told me about them before she. . . She told me there was one for each of us on the day our first child was born. I read mine the day LJ was born. It uh, talked about how I was probably already well-versed at being a father because I had been taking care of you for so long?" He paused. "I didn't read yours or anything, so."

Michael peeled the edge of the envelope back and tucked his hand into the envelope. "She did?" he breathed, taking a deep breath and swallowing the lump in his throat. He paused with the letter half way out of the envelope, before pushing it back in and turning it back over to inspect his mother's delicate handwriting. His name was scrawled onto the whiteness of the envelope and now he knew it was his mother's, he trailed his fingers across it with a tear in his eye.

"Yeah, buddy. . ." Lincoln murmured softly with a nod. He knew he remembered their mother better, that he had memories of her before Michael had even come along. Sometimes he wondered if Michael actually remembered her or if he had just stored the tales Lincoln told him as actual memories. "I didn't know when I should. . . you don't have to read it right now."

"I uh..." Michael stammered, looking back up to his brother. "...I don't know if I want to read it? What if...its something I don't want to read?"

"What are you talking about?" Lincoln asked, crossing his arms. "Why would it be something you didn't want to read?"

"I don't know," Michael shrugged. "I remember mom, I do, and I loved her with all my heart but...what if this letter sends me into an...episode?" He shook his head and fiddled it in his hands. "You read it," he said suddenly, pushing it into Lincoln's hand.

"I'm not reading it," Lincoln shook his head and shoved the envelope back in Michael's hand. "Michael, this was the last thing she did for you. Some final message she wanted you to have. You're reading it."

"I'll read it later," Michael said slowly. "I want you to come meet Roman," he smiled, tucking the letter into his back pocket.

Lincoln nodded and followed Michael down the hallway. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "God, Michael, I remember when Mom brought you home from the hospital." He felt something squeeze in his chest. "I can't believe you have one of your own."

“I know, it's weird right?” Michael laughed a little. “I’m thirty-four years old and I’m a father,” he beamed. “Who’s the daddy now?” he smirked, knocking on Sara’s door and poking his head around. “Hey, Sara?” he breathed quietly. “Uncle Linc is here.”

Sara was sitting up in bed, holding their son to her. He was now dressed in a little outfit and wrapped in a soft blue blanket. She smiled when she saw Michael in the doorway, and turned her attention back to the baby. "Are you ready to meet Uncle Linc? He's quite a handful."

Michael and Lincoln both walked into the room and Michael immediately walked to stand by her side. The baby has a little plastic bracelet around his wrist, with his name on it, his weight and his date of birth. Michael pressed his lips to his baby's forehead and the little baby wiggled. "Roman Michael Scofield. This is your Uncle Linc," he smiled.

Lincoln pressed a quick kiss to the top of Sara's head, then leaned over her to talk to the baby. "Look at you, little man." He brushed his finger down Roman's arm and smiled when the baby squirmed, then reached up, touching Lincoln's finger. "You're so strong! You definitely have that Burrows blood in you. And you look so much like your daddy, you poor guy."

Michael let a chuckle escape his lips and he smiled at Sara. "Which one?" he said playfully.

Sara laughed softly and shook her head. She leaned forward a little, turning the baby to the men so Lincoln could get a better look at him. "Say you're my daddy, silly." She looked up to Michael. "Want to hold your son?"

Michael nodded and held out his arms to his son. Cradling the small babe in his arms, he held him to his chest. The small child snuggled against the fabric of his shirt and Michael bounced him up and down lovingly. "Daddy loves his baby boy, yes he does," Michael cooed while Lincoln rolled his eyes at Sara.

"He's really beautiful you guys," Lincoln sad, taking Sara's hands. “You two did good.”


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might want to grab some tissues for this one ;)

Sara had just settled back down to sleep when the sound of Roman's wailing sounded through the baby monitor. Rolling over, she nudged Michael. "Your son wants you."

Michael groaned and hugged his pillow tighter, frowning but not opening his eyes. “I’ve already been up twice,” he grumbled into the fabric of his pillowcase.

Sara let out a loud sigh and threw the comforter off of her, hitting Michael in the head in the process. She had just laid back down. She walked briskly out of the bedroom and to the nursery where her son lay sobbing. "My goodness, little buddy!" She leaned over and pulled him into her arms. "Are you hungry?"

Michael's entire body jolted awake when Sara hit him in the head and he settled back into the bed. He was laying on his front but he couldn't sleep now he was suddenly awake thanks to the bash on the side of his head. He peeled his eyes open in the darkness and focused on the green dots dancing across the baby monitor as Sara spoke.

"You're such a hungry little guy. . ." Sara settled down into the rocking chair and unbuttoned her nightshirt with a free hand. Once it was successfully open Sara shifted the baby, who hungrily went to work eating. She laughed softly, stroking a finger down his cheek. "You're going to be so big and strong! Mommy loves you so much."

A smile crept across Michael’s face as he heard all the anger directed at him disappear when Sara held their son. He closed his eyes, stretching out his hand no the warm void of where Sara had been laying, absorbing her love through his skin. Roman suckled contently, his greedy gulps filling the room and travelling to Michael’s bedside through the monitor.

Sara rocked gently as Roman ate, humming softly under her breath. Soon he was content to have had enough of a midnight snack and Sara grabbed a towel from the changing table, tossing it over her shoulder. Pulling him up to her chest, she began to softly rub his back. "You're the best little boy in the world. Mommy and Daddy got so lucky. We both love you so, so much." She placed a soft kiss to his tiny ear.

Roman’s tiny groan escaped into the room and echoed down through the baby monitor. Michael nodded into the pillow he was dozing on. “Yes, we did,” he mumbled at the one-way device.

Sara moved over to the changing table, cooing softly to her son as she changed his diaper. When he was dressed back in pajamas, she kissed his cheek and smiled. "Want to go visit Daddy?"

Michael smirked at her words and rolled over onto his back. He shot a glance at the clock that said it was only 3am and he was suddenly thankful of paternity leave. He let his eyes flutter closed and he swallowed the dry lump in his throat as he let his arms fall out to the sides of his body and the covers to slip down his bare chest. The monitor fell silent and he heard the bedroom door creak open.

Sara cradled Roman against her chest as they walked slowly into the bedroom. The door creaked open and cast a soft light on the bed illuminating Michael's figure. "Look, there's Daddy!" She motioned to Michael and Roman gurgled in her arms. "Say Hey Daddy, we're not tired anymore!"

Michael peeled open an eyes and smiled weakly, letting his eyes fall closed again when the light from the hall spilled onto his face. He inhaled and let out a groan in his throat, reaching to rub his eyes with one hand while he scratched at the scars on his chest with the other. “Ro…” Michael said in a deep, husky voice. “You can’t sleep either?” He joked.

Sara settled down on the bed next to Michael and spread Roman's blanket out. She laid him down between herself and Michael and smiled as he kicked his legs. She leaned forward, kissing her baby's clothed stomach. "He's so happy to see you, Daddy!"

“Yeah I bet,” Michael yawned, resigning himself to the fact the probably wouldn’t sleep again tonight. He rolled over, shuffling sideways and resting his head in his hand as his month old son kicked at the air happily. “How is he wide awake?” Michael sighed. “How does he do it? Maybe I should take up breast feeding,” Michael yawned again. “Seems to be a winning solution.”

Sara laughed softly and shook her head. Roman cooed softly, drooling as he stared up at his parents. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to Michael's cheek. "He looks so happy."

Michael let his eyes fall closed again and his head hung limp. They shot open again when a tiny foot kicked him in the chest and he eyed his son suspiciously. “Okay, I’m up,” he grunted and yawned again. He pressed his hand to Roman’s chest and the baby let out excited baby pants at the opportunity to play with his dad’s fingers. The baby gripped at his thumb, pulling it one way and pulling his other fingers another, but it was all unnoticed when Michael’s eyes fluttered closed again.

"Michael!" Sara nudged him softly. She looked down to the baby. "Our son is trying to talk to you and you are ignoring him!" She brushed her fingers over Roman's forehead. "Babycakes, why is Daddy being mean?"

The baby gargled and Michael kept his eyes closed. “Because daddy doesn’t run on the same batteries as mommy,” Michael cooed in a baby voice. “Daddy’s are dead flat,” he smiled to himself.

Sara smirked and picked Roman up, laughing as he kicked his feet. She held him to her chest. "I don't think Daddy wants to hang out with us, big guy."

Michael flopped back onto the bed and rolled onto his back again, shuffling further towards the middle of the bed. He felt the weight at the side of him shift and then heard Sara moving around the bed and the light of his face disappeared when she passed between his dozing form and the door.

"What's that?" Sara asked, leaning her head close to Roman's. "Oh, you're the boss of the house now? And you want to see your Daddy? Well, then there's only one solution." Smirking, Sara placed a gurgling Roman stomach-down on Michael's chest.

Michael gasped when slobbering baby lips touching his skin and he was left with a patch of spittle on his tattoo. His eyes flew open and his hand instinctively found Roman’s tiny body, holding him so he didn’t roll off. The baby tried to lift his head weakly and it bobbed around while he scratched at Michael’s skin and kicked his feet with tiny puffs of energy. “Okay, you have daddy’s attention,” Michael smiled, shooting Sara a glance. “What’s up?” He asked the baby who gargled and blew a bubble. “Nooooooo…” he sang. “Mommy’s said that?” He smirked at Sara. “Well, we better make sure daddy gets up next time then don’t we.”

Sara sank back onto the bed next to Michael. She brushed her hand through his hair and gave him a look. "And what is our son saying about me?"

Michael shook his head. “Sorry. I promised I wouldn’t tell,” he arched his eyebrows and picked his son up off his chest as he sat up. “Didn’t I?” he cooed, laying Roman on his back in between his legs. He gripped his little feet and wiggled his legs playfully. “Us guys got to stick together, right buddy?” He nodded and Roman’s face turned up into a smile as he gnawed on his fist.

"Already keeping secrets from me!" Sara cooed, smiling down at her son. She smoothed her hand over his thick black hair as he made giggly noises at Michael. "Teaming up against poor Mommy. Just wait until we have a little girl around here." She smiled as she watched Michael interact with their son. "He looks so much like you, baby."

Michael's heart swelled a little with pride and he smiled at her. Leaning over their son he hovered above her lips. “Maybe I should get a onesie,” he smirked, pressing his lips to hers for a long, slow kiss.

Sara kissed him back for several slow seconds until a whimper sounded from the bed. She pulled away from Michael to see Roman kicking his legs and fussing. "Someone's jealous, I think."

"Oh really," Michael giggled lifting his son up into the air. "We can't have that!" he shrieked, pulling the baby towards him and pretending to gobble on his little neck whilst making growling noises.

Sara moved from the bed, flipping on the soft bedside lamp. She moved to the dresser, grabbing the digital camera off of it. She smiled over to where Michael was playing with their son, and turned the camera on, snapping a picture.

"Hey!" Michael froze in protest, clutching the baby to his chest and pulling his baby suit back into place. Roman dribbled onto his shoulder and made a gargling noise into his ear. "Yeah I know, Ro," he smiled, smoothing his hand down his son's back. "Mommy got me too," he winked at Sara.

"You two are just too cute together," Sara shrugged. She took another picture of Michael cradling their son to him. "I can't help it. I love my boys." She sat back down on the bed. "Michael, I've been thinking. . ."

Michael rearranged Roman so he was on his other shoulder so he could turn to look at Sara. "Please, no more. Not yet," he begged.

Sara rolled her eyes and laughed quietly. "Don't worry, honey. I think we have our hands full." She rubbed Roman's back as she smiled shyly at Michael. "I don't think I want to go back to work."

“Really?” Michael grinned excitedly. “Really, really?” he repeated, wincing slightly when Roman shrieked in his ear. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

Sara shrugged, keeping her eyes on the baby. "I just don't think I'd be able to leave him. I love being around him, and right now, I'd much rather be a mommy then a doctor. Plus, with how often you can work from home now, we'd all be together a lot." She looked at Michael. "I mean it's okay, right? We can handle it financially."

“Of course we can,” Michael assured her with a smile. “I mean, if we don’t end up with any of these guys anytime soon,” he motioned to the baby who has stilled on his shoulder. Michael turned his head and could hear the soft sound of Roman sucking on his own lips, smacking them together while he slept. Michael cradled the back of his head and moved him from his skin so he was laying down on the bed in between them again. “Sara?” he whispered, looking at his son sleeping. “You know, I’ve never been more proud of anything I have ever done in my life,” he admitted softly. “And I want to ask you to do something for me…” he said in another whisper.

Sara watched her son sleep, absolutely mesmerized by his tiny, peaceful figure. She hadn't thought it was possible to have so much love for such a tiny little person. Running her fingers gently down Roman's arm, she turned to look up at Michael. "Anything,"

Michael gently rolled backwards and pulled open his bedside drawer, shuffling in the draw quietly and pulling out a white envelope. “The day Roman was born, Lincoln gave me this,” he said softly, moving back into position beside her. He fiddled with the white paper in his hands for a few seconds, studying his name like he had so many times over the last four weeks. “It’s from my mom. And I want you to read it,” he looked up at her and offered her the envelope over their son. “Please.”

"Michael, I don't think I -- " Sara cut herself off, taking the envelope from him, and studying it carefully. This was something precious, something sacred, and Michael was trusting her with it. "Do you want me to read it. . to you?"

“Lincoln said mom wrote one for each of us and they were to be given to the respectful brother on the birth day of their first child. Lincoln obviously got his when he was eighteen,” he took a breath and looked back down to the still figure between them. “I’m kind of scared…of what it might say?” he whispered, smiling weakly at Roman and letting the baby grip loosely at his finger. “Will you…read it to me?”

"Of course I'll read it to you. If you're sure you want me to, Michael. It's so personal. . ." She glanced from where their son lay sleeping up to Michael. "Why are you scared?"

Michael shrugged and trailed his knuckled over the smooth skin of Roman's cheek. Tilting his head with a delirious smile he sighed. "I don't know. I knew my mom for such a short time, I don't know what she would possibly say about me having kids," he let a low laugh escape on a breath. "Not every mother encourages kids out of their eight year old child. Maybe I'm just being...well..." he looked up at her and smiled weakly. "...maybe I’m just being me."

Sara nodded slowly, keeping her eyes on Michael. Finally, after several seconds she glanced back towards Roman, pressing her hand against his stomach. "Do you want to keep him in here while I read it, or do you want to take him to bed?"

"He can stay," Michael smiled softly at his sleeping boy. "It's because of him after all."

Sara nodded slowly, taking the delicate letter out of its envelope. She stared at Michael's mother's handwriting for a moment, before slowly reading the words. "Michael, I worry about this letter in many ways. You're so young now I'm scared that when you become the man you are when you read this, my words won't mean anything to you. Right now, you'll still my little boy, my baby. As I write this, you're laying in bed next to me, snuggled up to my side. I'm glad that if you have memories of me, they'll always be of being my baby. You won't have to remember times when you thought yourself too old to hug me or kiss me or snuggle with your mommy. Our time will be forever frozen as this. I don't know if by now you'll have find someone else to give you words of wisdom, but I hope what I have to say touches you in some way. . ."

Michael gulped a lump down his throat. It was a lump of tears that had risen and threatened to fall but he did not let them. He kept his eyes on his son, watching his tiny chest rise and fall and his dark eyebrows knit together with dream sequences. Michael remembered the night his mother had invited him to sleep next to her, warm and safe at her side. It was not long before she passed, and as Sara read it to him, all he could hear was the soft kindness of his mother calling him a man and her baby. He smiled to himself and let his eyes close tightly as Sara continued.

Sara glanced over and Michael and reached out, squeezing onto his arm as she continued in a quiet voice. "In the eight years I've known you, Michael, you've become to most sympathetic, encouraging young man I've ever met. I can only imagine you'll continue to grow up this way. You always have a kind word, you're always wanting to help. I know that however many years pass until you are a father will only serve to help you grow in this way even more. As you look at your first born, I don't want you to worry about the kind of man you've become, or the kind of father you will be. I also know that you will anyway. Just because your father left doesn't mean you will too. He loved you, in his own way, he really did, and I'm sorry that I could never tell you that. I hope by now you understand. . ."

Michael nodded at Sara's words and a tiny, hot tears seeped from his closed eyelids and dripped from his face onto Roman's leg. Michael smoothed his hand over the damp patch, catching the next tears with his own skin. Somehow, even at eight year old, his mother had known him better than anyone. His reluctance to believe in his ability as a father, solely based on his father's efforts, was all he had thought about. He was so obsessed to an extent and it had nearly cost him his marriage. He heaved a breath and looked to Sara with watery eyes. "Go on..." he croaked.

"You're all good, baby. You're one of the few out there that is all good, and I know the woman you find to share your life with will be the same way. That's what you have to pass on to your baby above all else. Your goodness, your charity, your love. Those three things, and family, are the only thing that matter, Michael. Family is who you are, it's what you have to go the distance for, and I know if there's one thing you'll have learned from your brother, it's that. . ." Sara cleared her throat and glanced over to Michael before continuing. "No matter how bad things get, no matter what kind of day you had, you must always take your child and your wife in your arms every night, and tell them what they mean to you. How much you love them. I hope I've done that enough for you. You tell the woman you're with that I'm watching, and I wish I could have met her too. Tell her you're going to make it. Tell your baby that his grandma loves him, and whether he knows it or not, I'm here for him."

Sara's voice caught in her throat and she had to pause for a moment before reading the end. "I'm here for you too, Michael. I love you, and I'm proud of you every day, and I hope you never forget that.  
  
I love you,   
Mom."

Michael lips quivered and he pressed his hand to his face, hiding his tears as they fell. He tried to hold in his sobs, but they shook his body, and he let out a ragged cough to clear his throat. "I'll never forget," he whispered to himself, keeping his eyes closed and his hand to his face. As if Sara had already read the note before, all the word she had already said to him about his mother came flooding back, and he couldn't believe how alike the two most important women in his life were. He wished, every single day, that his mother was still around. That she had met Sara. That she had met Roman. Even if it were for a day, he would have given anything to have that. Michael's sobbing made the bed bounce and Roman stirred, screwing up his little face and clenching his fists before a tiny wail left his body. "Hey..." Michael soothed, lifting his boy into his arms and holding him to his chest before the baby settled again. Michael looked up at Sara with watery blue eyes and a tear stained face and his lip quivered again. "I love you," he breathed on a hitched breath and pulled her to him so he could hold her. "I love you guys so much."

Sara leaned into Michael's embrace, wrapping one arm around him and rubbing their baby's back with her other hand. "I know, baby. I know. I love you too so, so much." She swallowed a lump in her throat, and rubbed Michael's back. Roman's crying calmed down and he made a soft gurgling noise as Michael held him close. "And our baby loves you too."

Michael tightened his grip on his son and leant down to press a soft kiss to his downy black hair. “I mean it, Sara. I have never felt so in love with anyone my whole life,” he looked back up to her and his lips twitched with another smile. “You make me whole, baby.”

"Oh, you just like me so much because I gave you this little guy here. . ." Sara ran her finger down Roman's cheek and laughed quietly as the corner of his mouth turned up into a grin. She turned back to Michael, her expression growing serious. "I know how you feel about me, Michael, and no matter what I say I never doubt that. You know I feel the same about you, right?"

Michael nodded and pressed his lips to hers softly. “I know. If we didn’t fight every now and again, we’d get bored, right?” he smiled. Roman stirred again his dad’s arms and Michael smiled at his son. “I think I better go put this guy to bed,” he whispered.

Sara nodded softly, taking Roman's tiny hand and placing a soft kiss to it. "Mommy loves you." She moved to settle back down in bed. "She knew you, Michael. She really knew you."

Michael just smiled at her and nodded softly, shuffling to the edge of the bed and slowly padding from the room. He walked along the hall into the nursery and gently laid Roman into his crib. "There you go buddy," Michael whispered leaning over the edge of the crib. "Daddy loves you very much," he whispered. "And mommy loves you too. And uncle Linc," Roman made a gargling noise and a small smile tugged at his lips. Michael let a small chuckle escape his lips. "Yes, he does," he cooed, before humming a lullaby softly into the room.


	39. Chapter 39

Sara took Roman from Michael's arms and held him to her chest. "Mommy will miss you, baby. You be good for Daddy and Uncle Linc, okay? I'll miss you so much!" Roman made a long slew of baby’s noises, and gurgled in her arms, throwing his arms around. "Yes, I know, you'll miss Mommy's boobies."

"We'll all miss mommy's boobies!" Lincoln called from the lounge with a laugh. Michael just watched his son wiggle in Sara's arms and smiled, folding his arms and letting his body soak up the relaxation of the room for a moment.

"We'll be fine," Michael beamed at her, stroking Roman's back softly. "How hard can it be? Linc's done this before."

Sara gave Michael a look. "You better bite your tongue, Daddy. You never know." She brushed her lips over Roman's head. "Don't let him forget me, okay?"

“Like he could,” Michael beamed, plucking the wiggling tot from Sara’s arms and holding his back against his chest so he could still see Sara. Michael leant forward and pressed his lips to Sara, smiling at her with his eyes open when Roman kicked out between them. “I’ll take care of our little boy. Roman too,” he winked, nudging his head backwards at Lincoln in the front room.

“Hey,” Lincoln objected weakly, arriving beside Michael and pulling Sara to him for a kiss. “We’ll be fine. We got bottled boobie juice and diapers. What else do we need?”

Sara sighed as she hugged Michael. "Okay, call me if you need anything. Behave, Linc." She leaned in, giving Michael one more kiss. "I love you." Leaning towards Roman she smiled, "And I love you! So, so much!" She tugged on his feet and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Be a good boy." Finally, she forced herself out the front door.

Lincoln turned to Michael. "So what. Now we teach him hockey?"

“Hockey,” Michael repeated flatly, rolling his eyes and walking past his brother to the lounge. “He doesn’t like hockey, do you?” Michael grinned, lifting his son above his head and cooing at him. “Say, no Uncle Linc!” he teased, swinging the boy like a plane who bust into giggles.

"You better not drop him on his head. Sara'll be pissed. . ." Lincoln walked over to Michael and smiled at Roman. Dropping his voice into baby talk, Lincoln grinned, "How about baseball, little guy? Look at these big strong arms!" He squeezed his baby biceps. "We'll get you a big old wooden bat!"

“I won’t drop him, will I?” Michael squeaked at his boy, letting him float back down into the space between them. Roman stared at Lincoln with wide eyes and his mouth ajar, a tiny trail of baby drool dangling from his lip. “Hmm,” Michael frowned. “Big biceps…drool…he must be yours,” he laughed, handing the baby to Lincoln.

"Are you my little guy?" Lincoln cooed, tickling Roma's chest. He burst into another round of giggles and Lincoln held him up in the air. "Can I take you home and let you live with me? I'll get you a fancy car and some ladies!" Roman giggled again and a line of drool dribbled down from his mouth to Linc's shirt. "Cut that out."

Michael laughed at his brother and grabbed a squeaky toy from the floor, pointing it at Roman. “You don’t want to meet Uncle Linc’ ladies, Ro. Trust me. They aren’t mommy,” he smirked at his brother.

"Boobies are boobies, right buddy?" Lincoln teased, taking Roman's hand and making him give him a high five. "And plus, Mommy stops by sometimes too, but let's keep that on the down-low, okay? No need for Daddy to get his boxers in a bunch."

As if he understood, Roman’s little body shook with more giggles. Michael looked at him and joined him. “He’s laughing at you Linc. Not with you,” he grinned, taking the baby from his arms and checking his watch. “Food time big guy,” Michael announced to the wiggling tot, who at the mere mention of food, began to huff and puff with excitement. “Uncle Linc will make you a bottle,” Michael said, looking at Lincoln and then at the kitchen.

"Sure, he will!" Lincoln headed to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and glanced at the bottles of pumped breast milk. Raising his voice, he yelled, "Hey buddy, how about a bottle of beer? You can't possibly like this milk for real, can you?"

Michael had followed his brother and leant into the fridge beside him, giving him a look that silently said he didn’t have to shout. “It’s not bad,” Michael smirked; bouncing Roman who had began to get agitated.

Lincoln grabbed the bottle and arched an eyebrow at Michael, looking slightly impressed. "So you. . ."

Michael quirked an eyebrow. “Not from them bottle…” he grinned wickedly and moved away from the fridge to lean against the counter opposite.

"Mi-chael!" Lincoln drew out. He opened the microwave, and stuck the bottle in, setting the timer. "Nice. Real nice. I didn't think you had it in you."

“You need to heat that in boiling water,” Michael told him gently, pointing awkwardly to the microwave when Roman wiggled and slapped him in the face. “And what? You think I’m some kind of sexual prude because I’m not you?” he arched his eyebrow and grinned.

Linc opened the microwave and waved the bottle around, "Warm is warm, dude." He moved to sink, running water in a pot then moving it to the stove. He dropped the bottle inside, then turned back to Michael. "I just didn't expect that from you." He extended his hand to Roman, who grabbed onto one of his large fingers. "Your mommy and daddy are kinky, little man."

“Not kinky,” Michael whispered through gritted teeth. “Adventurous…maybe?” Lincoln gave him a look and Michael smiled. “Okay, kinky,” he rolled his eyes and laughed. “And the milk heats best on the stove because the bacteria in the middle stays cold and alive if you heat it in the microwave,” Michael struggled out, almost letting Roman slip from his arms when the baby arched his back and banged his head on Michael’s chest. “Oh yes it does!” He said, hoisting the boy back up into his arms. “And if we get Roman sick, mommy’s will kill us both, oh yes she will.”

"And Daddy is never going to be able to talk like an adult again, is he? No, he isn't!" Lincoln cooed at Roman, smiling as he kicked his legs. "Oh, no he isn't!"

Michael let out a painful grunt when Roman kicked him in the groin and began giggling at Lincoln. “Here, you take him,” Michael coughed out, grabbing his crotch as soon at Lincoln did. He turned towards the stove awkwardly and lifted the bottle from the water and shook it up slightly, spreading the heat all over the bottle. “You know how hot this should be?” Michael asked.

"You're a feisty little devil!" Lincoln smirked at the baby. He tucked him under one arm and held his other out to Michael. "Here, test it on me." Michael did, and Linc let out a cry. "Ouch. Fucking hell, man. What are you trying to do?"

“Too hot?” Michael said innocently, the bottle poised above Lincoln’s skin. He smirked, thankful he hadn’t tested it on himself. “And no swearing. If his first words are anything but ‘Mommy’ or ‘Daddy’ we are both dead.”

Lincoln held Roman in the air and twirled him around for a second. "Can you say damn it? Come on, damn it? How about. . . sex? That's a good one. And you're mommy and daddy have a lot of it!"

“Oh my god, Lincoln,” Michael scolded, plucking his son from his brother’s corruption. “I am taking you down with me if he says any of that,” he pointed at his brother menacingly. “Mark my words. If you thought prison was bad, you’ve never seen Sara mad,” he rolled his eyes and shook the bottle again, setting it on the counter to cool.

"Well, it's true," Lincoln smirked, watching Roman bat happily at his daddy's face. "You and Sara are a couple of horndogs. It's best he learns early so he's not embarrassed when he comes home one day and hears you two going at it." He waggled his fingers at Roman. "Have you two been doing it often since he was born?"

Michael eyed his brother’s seemingly innocent question suspiciously. “Does it matter?” He arched an eyebrow and cocked his head. “Why the sudden interest in my sex life?”

"Ohhh. . ." Lincoln trailed off, moving to the counter to test the bottle again. He looked back to Roman. "So Mommy is more interested in this little man than. . . Daddy's little man."

Roman giggled and his eyes lit up with anticipation when he saw Lincoln test his milk again and not flinch from the pain. “We’ve been busy,” Michael interjected. “And tired,” he relinquished his son to his brother who laid him in his arms and watched him stretch eagerly for the bottle, mouth open and expecting the teat.

Lincoln extended the bottle to Roman, smiling as the baby boy slurped excitedly at the milk. He placed a kiss to Roman's forehead. "Piggy Wiggy." He turned back to Michael. "Yeah, but you and Sara used to go at it. . . all the time. I mean, this isn’t healthy."

“Tell me about it,” Michael sighed heavily, folding his arms and watching his son drink hungrily, gulping audibly and his eyes fluttering closed with each mouthful. “We haven’t had sex for two weeks,” he twisted his lips into a half grimace and sighed again. “If you weren’t here? I’d be masturbating quicker than you can say…well, masturbating!” Michael declared frustrated.

"That's another one you can't say either, buddy. . ." Lincoln murmured down at the slurping baby. He looked back at Michael and shifted Roman in his arms. "So do something about it."

“Like what?” Michael whispered, noticing Roman had fallen asleep and his lips barely twitched with each suckle. “As much as I love the little dude, he’s so needy!” Michael joked playfully. “Daddy misses mommy…” he cooed to the sleeping baby. “…In all aspect of the word,” he grinned at Lincoln who pulled he bottle from Roman’s mouth with a popping sound and moved him onto his towel-clad shoulder to burp him.

Lincoln rubbed Roman's back as the baby fussed. "I know, you're sleepy. Just give me one good one and you can take a nap, okay?" He looked back to Michael. "So let me take him home tonight. You two can be alone. You've gotta have enough bottles in there to feed all of Chicago."

Michael laughed out loud but muffled his chuckle with a hand. "If Chicago enjoyed breast milk," he said matter of factly. "I don't know. Sara is kind of...scary protective mom," he said slowly.

Roman let out a loud burp and Lincoln laughed, continuing to rub his back as he fell back asleep on his uncle's shoulder. "Yeah, but it's just me. And it's just one night. He'll wake up once, I'll feel him and bring him back in the morning. I mean, Sara's got to miss you too, right?"

"I'll tell you what..." Michael said smirking at Lincoln's assumption that his son only woke once a night. "...If you can convince Sara, you got a deal. Hell, if you can convince Sara, I’d let you have sex with her!" Michael said in total confidence that Sara would not let Lincoln look after their son for even one night.

"Did you hear that, buddy?" Lincoln murmured to his sleeping nephew. "You might have a little baby brother soon!" Lincoln gave Michael a look. "Dude, I could care less if you have sex. If you want some, you ask Sara."

“You mean, you won’t fight my corner? Plea on behalf of the sexually frustrated husband as the concerned brother?” Michael asked amazed. “What kind of brother are you?” he narrowed his eyes and moved to the lounge with a yawn. Falling back against the couch he held out his arms to take his slumbering son when Lincoln followed him. “You know, he’s going to wake up cranky.” Michael said tiredly.

"Why would he be cranky?" Lincoln asked, settling Roman down on Michael's chest. "He just got fed. He gets to spend the night with the best uncle ever. He should be one happy camper."

“Ah,” Michael whispered, settling the dead weight of his son to his chest and feeling his tiny breaths on his neck. “But his name is Roman Michael Scofield, and as such, he will be cranky when he wakes up,” Michael smiled. “He always is.”

Lincoln rubbed his hand over Roman's tiny head before settling down in the recliner. "He is your son."

Michael yawned again and frowned at his brother. “Are you saying I am not a morning person?” he smiled, feeling his eyelids grow heavy with every word.

"You're apparently not an afternoon person either," Lincoln murmured as Michael's eyes fell shut. After several moments, he stood and laid a blanket over father and soon. "Sweet dreams, buddies."

“I’m tired…” Michael went to protest but his words trailed off and his head rolled sideways. He had fallen asleep with his son held to his chest and his lips delicately touching Roman’s soft hair. The baby heaved a tiny breath and let out a huge sigh, clutching at Michael’s shirt before relaxing again and sleeping off his milk.

Sara let herself into the house, breezing into the lounge. She smiled as she came across the scene of Michael and Roman asleep on the couch, and Linc in the recliner, a women's magazine open. He looked bored. Sitting down her shopping bags, she smirked. "Look at all my boys."

Lincoln crooked his neck to look over the back of the chair at her and he gave her a smile, hopping to his feet silently. He moved to her and smiled eagerly. “What did you get me?” he whispered with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Nothing for you," Sara shook her head, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She reached into a bag and pulled a fuzzy blue sleeper out with duckies on the bottom of the feet. "But look how cute this is!"

Lincoln scrunched his nose and frowned. “Adorable,” he agreed reluctantly, casting a look over his shoulder and shoving his hands into his back pockets nervously. “Hey, Sara,” he started, making sure Michael was still asleep again. “When was the last time you two had sex?”

Sara brushed her hand gently over Roman's dark hair, smiling when he groaned in his sleep. Surprised by Lincoln's question, she turned around. "Excuse me?"

“It’s not a proposition,” Lincoln smiled at her. “Unless you want to?” He quirked an eyebrow but she rolled her eyes and gave him a look. “Okay, see, I was thinking…if you wanted, I would take Ro to mine tonight? Give you two some…alone time,” he almost shudder as he breathed the words, shaking from the images he had.

"No. . ." Sara shook her head and glanced back towards the sleeping boys on the couch. "You don't have to do that. We don't need alone time."

Lincoln almost laughed at her response. “You don’t need alone time?” He repeated her words as a question. “Do you talk to your husband anymore?”

"Of course we talk." Sara stood and gave Lincoln a look. "We talk all the time. And we don't have time for alone time. . ." She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "We have a son in case you've forgotten?"

“Of course,” Lincoln said apologetically. “But you realise, you’re going to have a son for the next eighteen years, right?” Emphasising his point with a nod. “You can abstain that long?” he teased.

Sara rolled her eyes and couldn't help smiling. "He's a baby, Linc. He needs us. More than we need sex."

“Okay, if you say so,” Lincoln smiled and flopped back down into the chair. “Oh, and you both think that way, right?” He prodded. “You and Michael?” he glared at her.

Sara flattened her shirt over her stomach and glanced towards Michael. She lowered her voice. "We haven't talked about it. And stop looking at me like that."

“Like what?” Lincoln whispered innocently. “Sara, I’m a guy, as you know,” he winked at her before continuing. “And I’m just saying…we need sex.”

Sara rolled her eyes slightly, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table. "I think Michael should realize we have more important things to deal with than sex. Plus, there's no time."

Lincoln pointed at her accusingly. “You…should make time. And take the kindness of your brother in law when he offers to take your brat off you for the night,” he scolded lightly. “It won’t happen everyday.”

"He's not a brat!" Sara scolded softly. She stood up and walked towards the kitchen. "Maybe I don't want to have sex, okay?"

“Whoa,” Lincoln said gruffly. “You don’t? Did I miss something somewhere in evolution? Maybe this is why I am not getting laid…a new breed of woman that doesn’t actually want to have sex unless they are getting a baby out of it.”

Sara let out a puff of air and went to cleaning up the kitchen. "No, Lincoln, that's not it. It's just. . . " She paused, then shook her head. "You know, I don't think this is your business."

Lincoln tilted his head at her and moved closer to her in the kitchen. “Sara, is something wrong?” He asked sincerely. “Is something wrong with Michael?” he sniggered, not able to contain his laughter. “I’m only asking because I care.”

"You only ask because your a jerk," Sara murmured. She turned around and motioned up and down her body. "This. . . isn't exactly what Michael was used to right now. It's been . . . baby-fied."

Lincoln looked at her in disbelief, blinking a few times and shaking his head. “Sara, you’re kidding right? You think Michael cares about that?” He quirked an eyebrow, letting his eyes roam over her body slowly. His smile turned downwards and he tilted his head for a better view while she tidied up. “I can’t see anything wrong,” he smirked, meeting her eyes again.

"Stop looking at me!" Sara snapped loudly, turning around and tossing the towel she was holding at him. "And don't say Michael doesn't notice because he has to. I sure notice."

Lincoln caught the towel and balled it in his hands. “That’s because you are a woman, and women are only ever able to notice their insecurities. None of you ever notice your compliments!” he growled in a high pitched voice. “Look, let me take Roman tonight. You and Michael can talk…or whatever you want to do. God damn it, Sara. I am offering to help here! Take a god damn picture!” he grinned.

Sara scrunched up her nose and leaned back against the counter. She traced the pattern on the ceramic and sighed. "But I spent the whole day away from him."

“Sara…” Lincoln breathed on a sigh, walking to her and smoothing his hands down her arms. “You’ve spent the last four months with him,” he smiled. “He won’t miss you for a night. It will do him good anyway.”

Sara sighed leaning into Lincoln. "But I'll miss him. And worry about him."

“Is that a yes?” Lincoln asked confused. “Because if it is, Michael said we can have sex first,” he grinned down at her and rolled his eyes playfully. “He said I wouldn’t convince you,” he smirked. “And if I did, then you and I could have sex,” he burst into laughter and shook his head. “He doubts my abilities.”

Sara laughed quietly, shaking her head. "Lincoln, I love you, but I'm not scratching your itch, okay? And I didn't say yes. . . exactly." She sighed, putting her hand on her hip. "You have to be really, really careful with him."

Lincoln looked at her dumbfounded. “What do you think I’m going to do with him? Play ‘Kick the baby?’” Lincoln scoffed. “Relax, super scary mommy, I’ve had a kid, remember? LJ is fine with no childhood trauma at the hands of his father.”

Sara crossed her arms. "I mean it, Linc. No bad words. And he likes for you to sing to him when he's falling asleep. And you have to cuddle him when he wakes up. And where's he going to sleep?"

“Sara, he has a crib at my house, you know,” Lincoln old her firmly. Sara eyed him suspiciously and he laughed a little under her gaze. “So I want him to stay like all the time…is my love a bad thing?” he grinned. “And I promise. No bad words. All cuddles, baby talk and singing to sleep. And that’s a Burrows-Scofield promise, so you know it’s worth everything,” he smiled.

Sara leaned back against the counter and eyed Lincoln. She couldn't help but smile softly. Nodding slowly, she tilted her head. "He'll know I'm not there."

“You…” Lincoln said, stepping into the space between them and cupping her head in his hands before pressing his lips to her forehead. “…Are really hard work,” he smiled, moving from her and back into the lounge. Lincoln tip toed through the room and leaned over Michael, gently lifting his arm from Roman’s back and letting it sit limp by his side. Michael let out a sleepy groan when Lincoln lifted the baby from his chest and pulled him to his own with only a tiny trace of a wail before Lincoln bobbed him back to sleep, rubbing his back gently and shushing in his tiny ear. He turned and quirked an eyebrow at Sara. “See? I’m a natural,” he whispered.

Sara smirked and walked over to Lincoln. She brushed her hand over the baby's forehead and smiled softly. "He does love his Uncle Linc a whole lot." She motioned to Michael. "But what good does any of this do me if he's going to sleep all night?"

Lincoln crouched slightly, lifting the baby’s overnight bag onto his shoulder and kissed Sara on the cheek again. “Wake him up,” he winked, rearranging a thick fleece blanket over the baby. “Trust me, he won’t be asleep for long,” Lincoln whispered, giving her another smile and walking from the house.

Sara glanced around the living room for a moment, then sighed. She sank down onto the edge of the couch, brushing her hand across Michael's forehead. He stirred a bit. "Honey?"

“Hmmm?” Michael mumbled, moving his hand to his chest and his eyes flying open in panic when he felt Roman had gone. “Where’s Roman?” he breathed urgently, searching the lounge panicked.

"I sent him to boot camp. . ." Sara quipped. She leaned over Michael and smiled softly, brushing her finger down his cheek. "He went to spend the night with Lincoln. That's okay, right?"

“Oh,” Michael sighed, relieved. “That’s…” he paused, laying back against the cushions and his skin tingling when her hand trailed over the fabric of his shirt. “…Did Linc talk to you?” He asked with a grin.

"Yes," Sara murmured, nodding slowly. She traced a pattern on his shirt, looking up and meeting his eyes. She smiled softly. "Feeling a little neglected?"

Michael giggled lightly and looked down to her hand on his chest. “What did Lincoln say?” he whispered embarrassed. “Was he crude?” Michael grimaced at his words, the thought of his brother’s tactless approach to sex invading his mind.

"No, he wasn't crude at all." Sara shook her head. "And he seemed more than happy to take Roman for the night." She glanced around the room. "It feels really quiet."

“Want to make it loud again?” Michael quirked an eyebrow with a cheeky grin. He couldn’t suppress the sexual beast rising within him and he reached out to smooth his hand around the inside of Sara’s thigh, watching her breathless reaction at his touch with glee. “I know you miss it as much as me,” he teased.

"I do miss it. . . I miss you, baby. . ." Sara leaned down, brushing her lips across his. She pulled away and glanced down at her clothes, then around the living room. "I'll tell you what. . .how about you clean up the living room. . . while I go try to look like a woman?"

“Okay,” Michael smiled and pressed his lips to hers again, letting his hand slide back to his side. “I’ll tidy and you…” he waved his hand towards the bedroom as he shuffled some magazines Lincoln had so helpfully rearranged.

Sara went upstairs and dug through her lingerie drawer. She took a couple outfits in the bathroom, trying time after time to slip into each of them. Nothing fit. Her stomach was still too poochy, her boobs were much too big. She poked at them and rolled her eyes. "You think I'd appreciate these." Sighing, she grabbed her terry cloth robe and shrugged into it. "Alright, Sara. Michael is your husband. You just had his son. He loves you. . . he doesn't care if you have stretch marks and leaky boobs. Or if your stomach is a bit flabbier than it used to be. He still likes your body." She rolled her eyes at herself. "You are so full of it."

Michael smiled at himself from the doorway and leant against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. He appreciated the bigger boobs, that was for sure and he really didn’t care about everything else. “I still love your body,” Michael breathed huskily from the doorway and caught her attention. He looked her up and down and smirked at her when their eyes met again. “Sexy robe,” he quipped playfully. “Do I get what’s underneath?”

Sara blushed and glanced away from him, fluffing her hair. "Hey. I wasn't done making myself look like a woman." She took a step towards him and twirled the belt of her robe. "There isn't anything underneath."

Michael leaned forward and peered down the front of the slightly open robe. “So I see,” he grinned and returned his gaze to hers. “What’s all this, ‘making myself look like a woman’ anyway?” Michael tilted his head to one side never losing him smile. “Did you have a sex change and not tell me?” he said dramatically.

"No," Sara laughed quietly, looping her arms around his neck. She smiled and shook her head. "I just wanted to. . ." She glanced towards the pile of discarded lingerie and shrugged. "I don't know."

“You don’t have to,” Michael breathed, untying her robe and letting the sides fall open. He snaked his hands inside and over her warm skin, dipping his head and kissing her neck. “This is prefect,” he whispered in her ear while he gently sucked on her earlobe. He trailed his hand back over her skin and took hers in his, moving it to feel the hardness in his pants. “Trust me,” he breathed against her skin.

Sara's breath caught in her throat when his hands started roaming over her skin. She let out a quiet moan as her hand pressed against his erection. Tilting her head, she pressed a kiss to his neck, cupping him in her hand. "Mmm. . . I like the feel of this."

Michael let a low moan escape his throat and he moved to the other side of her neck. “You know where it feels even better?” He whispered, smoothing his hands tenderly down and over her aching breasts, over her hip and around to the inside of her thigh. He gently stroked his fingers along her already damp folds and smirked against her skin. “Right here,” he breathed, kissing her skin again.

Sara tilted her head back, letting out a quiet moan. She hitched up her leg just a little, groaning as Michael's fingers brushed against her once again. "Oh, baby. . ." Her eyes fluttered shut slightly and she rubbed her thumb over the bulge in his pants. "That does feel good."

Michael smiled and danced his fingers back up her body, glazing over the smooth skin of her shoulders and pushing her robe to the floor behind her. He lifted her hands behind his head again and trailed his hands down her back, cupping her behind and hoisting her up around his waist. Sara wrapped her legs around his waist tightly and he let out a breathy moan as she bumped against his erection. "Oh baby..." he mimicked her words, taking a few tentative steps toward their bed. "...You haven't felt anything yet," he growled, his voice low and gruff as he lowered them both to the bed.

Sara leaned in and caught his lips in a slow, heated kiss. She ran her tongue along his bottom lips before opening her mouth, inviting his tongue in. She kissed him until she had to come up for air, then tilted her head, pressing kisses down his neck. "Oh, Michael. . ." She darted her tongue out over his adam's apple and stroked back down to his pants to where she had left a wet spot. "You need to take these off so I can touch you."

In the amount of time it took him to push himself off of Sara, Michael reached behind his head and yanked his shirt from his body, tossing it over he other side of the room. He then undid his pants and his cell phone and spare change pulled them to the floor with a clink and he stepped from them. He crawled back over her body and pushed his boxer off as he did so, kicking them to where they landed by the slightly open door. “Touch away,” he whispered, seizing her lips in another fiery, tongue fuelled kiss.

Sara took him in her hand, beginning to stroke gently. He tightened in her hand and she let out a groan into his mouth. She rubbed her thumb over his tip, flicking it gently over his pre-cum. "You like that, baby?"

Michael let out an audible sigh of gratitude and hissed, letting his eyes flutter closed with each stroke. "Mmm..." he breathed, biting his bottom lip and nodding slowly. "God, I've missed this..."

"Me too. . ." Sara puffed slowly, smiling as he slicked in and out of her hand. She increased the pace of her stroking, placing a kiss on his neck. "I've missed you."

Michael captured her lips for another kiss and moaned into her mouth, gently rocking his hips into her hand. One of his hands busied itself in Sara’s hair while the other tickled down her ribcage and over her hip, finally arriving at her damp curls and poking one of it’s digits into her wetness. Sara’s body tensed under him and he smirked against her lips. “Oh yeah, that’s my girl,” he growled, deepening the kiss to match the strokes of his fingers as he plunged two into her, slowly stroking the inside of her.

"God, Michael. . ." Sara moaned, thrusting her hips up as he moved his fingers inside her. She increased the pace of her strokes, darting her thumb across his tip every few seconds. "I love you. I love you. . ."

His name on Sara’s lips sent Michael into a frenzy and he increased his pace in and out of her, kissing her hard and bruising her lips with his furious kisses. “Oh, Sara…” Michael mumbled pulling his lips from hers and grunting into her shoulder as she stroked him. He stopped his own assault, pulling his lubricated fingers from her and smearing her juices over his erection before he gripped her leg behind her knee and lifted it over his back, opening her to him further. “…I can’t wait anymore,” he muttered huskily. “I want to come inside of you,” he whimpered against the corner of her mouth as he pushed into her.

"I want you to come inside of me. . ." Sara mumbled through her state of ecstasy. She let out a loud moan as he pushed into her. "Oh, yeah. . . oh, yes. . ." She pressed her face into his neck, moaning again. "God, you feel so good."

Michael held his breath until he was buried fully within Sara and then he sighed heavily, relishing in the feel of her muscles tightening around him. “Let’s never wait this long again…” he whispered into her ear on a pant. He began moving in an out of her slowly, unable to stop the grunts from escaping his throat n each thrust. “…ever.”

Sara let out a tiny groan with each thrust. She held him to her, letting out puffs of air against his neck. She could barely speak. "God. . . but think. . . how good. . . this is. . . when . . . we wait. . ." She moaned loudly, trying to fight her climax. "Michael. Fuck."

Michael had never heard Sara swear unless they were arguing and they were most definitely not arguing, and it was beyond sexy. Michael increased his pace a little, titling his hips so his pubic bone collided with the sensitive bundle of nerve between her thighs. “Oh fuck, Sara…” Michael growled, gripping at the bed sheets beside them. “…Come for me baby. Come hard,” Michael begged.

"Michael. . . Michael. . ." Sara murmured his name as her climax hit her. She clutched onto him tightly, letting out tiny groans against his chest as her muscles tightened around him. "Oh, yes. Oh, yes. Come for me to baby."

Michael’s orgasm took his sight at the same time as Sara’s begged him to. His body shuddered and he held her to him as he thrust up into her weakly, panting into her ear and hissing from the sensation. He collapsed against her sweaty skin and ran his hand through her hair, kissing the salty skin of her shoulder tenderly. “Oh my God, Sara…” Michael smiled against her skin. “…Saying ‘fuck’ is so sexy,” he grinned through his breathy smile.

Sara laughed quietly, rolling over to him and pressing a kiss to his chest. "Is it?" She blushed a little and smiled softly. "I got a little carried away." She kissed him again. "But damn, you're so good."

“Hmmm, carried away…” Michael winked at her. “…I like it. Next, you’ll be telling me we should try this position, and that position,” he smirked. “Not that I’d mind.”

Sara laughed quietly, propping herself up on her elbow. She pressed a kiss to his still sweaty chest. "You'd like me to get a little bossy, hmm?"

"I love it when you're bossy," Michael growled, mirroring her position opposite her and resting his head to in his hand. "And no more of this self-doubting that I’d love you any less for having a baby, okay?" He trailed a finger along her hip, stroking the skin up and down before looking down her naked body. "I love you, regardless. And your massive boobies!" he squealed, tackling her on the bed and mouthing her swollen breasts playfully.

Sara laughed quietly, moaning softly when he pressed her down against the bed. She ran her hand through his hair. "Well, you'd better enjoy them while you can because they won't be here forever."

“Okay,” Michael breathed, smirking against her skin while he nuzzled her breasts and nipped at the skin gently. “How long have I got?” he beamed, adding his hands to the mix and gently brushing his fingers over her dusky nipples.

Sara rolled her eyes, biting gently on her lower lip. "Mmm. Until I stop breast feeding." She glanced at Michael. "And no, I'm not breast feeding him until he's five so you can enjoy the big breasts."

Michael lifted his head and pouted. “That’s a shame,” Michael smiled at her, crawling up her body so that he was eye-level. “We’ll have to let Linc adopt him,” he smirked, capturing her lips in his for a long, lingering kiss.


	40. Chapter 40

Sara sat Roman down on his blue blanket covered with sheep and kneeled in front of him. He giggled as she held up his stuffed bear and said "Do you want to read a book to your bear? Hmm?" Roman let loose with a squeal of giggles followed by baby blabber. "Is that a yes, Rome?" He giggled again and she turned to get the book. "Now where did Mommy put it?" She looked under the couch and she when she turned around, her giggling 8-month-old was gone.

The sound of slapping against laminate flooring echoes through the study as Michael stood next to his desk, inspecting some plans he had drawn up that day. He knew it was Roman before he even turned around to inspect his son crawling along the floor towards him with a determined shuffle. The sound of his son giggling as he gripped onto his jeans and lifted himself to his feet caught his attention and he looked down at his son over the top of his glasses. "Sara? Look what I found!" he called with a smile.

Sara hurried into the study, smiling when she found Roman standing up, holding onto Michael. "Now, Roman. Daddy has to work. You're going to have to be Mommy's buddy today. Do you want to come with Mommy?" She moved over and knelt down close to him, waggling her fingers.

Roman giggled and clung tighter to Michael. He went into another slew of baby talk and extended one of his hands towards Sara. He let out a squee then sang, "Mom. Momomomomomom. . ."

Michael let out a breathy laugh and looked up at Sara quickly. "Did he...?" he asked with a delirious laugh.

"You said, Mommy!" Sara moved closer to Roman and pulled him in her lap. He giggled and patted her cheek. "Momomomomom!"

She looked at Michael. "He just said my name!"

Michael knelt down beside Sara and patted his son on the back gently. "Hey Ro," he smiled, catching his son's attention. The baby looked towards Michael and reached out for his glasses with a cheeky, two-toothed grin. "Can you say Daddy?" Michael cooed but Roman just gargled and spit dribbled down his chin.

"But you can say Mommy, can't you, big boy!" Sara cooed, breaking into another peel of delighted laughter as Roman called her by name again. "You are such a big boy! Tell your daddy what a big boy you are!" As if he could understand Sara, Roman turned back to Michael, waving his arms and speaking in his own language.

Michael pouted playfully and lifted Roman into his arms, standing up with a growl. The boy giggled loudly and his cheeks dimpled. His blue eyes shone brightly and his eyes were pinched closed with his laughter. Michael wiggled his fingers in his sides, tickling him and making him cry even harder with hysterics. "He's my big boy!" Michael chuckled and Roman let out a squeal in his arms.

"He is your big boy," Sara smiled, standing up. She giggled as she watched Michael with their son. "He's such a big boy." She felt something inside her tighten and tears sprung to her eyes. "Soon he'll be going to school and dating and leaving us."

Michael planted Roman back on the floor and the boy babbled to himself and gripped to Michael's jeans, rubbing his drooly smile against the fabric. "Why are you teary?" Michael soothed, stroking his arm down Sara's arm. "Oh my God, are you pregnant?" he grinned with a slight air of trepidation in his voice.

"No," Sara laughed softly and shook her head. "But would it be such a bad thing if I was?" Before he could answer she pulled him in for a quick kiss. "He said my name. You have to get the video camera and record him doing it. He said my name!" She paused and arched an eyebrow. "You are so getting laid tonight!" Leaning down, she picked Roman up and tickled his belly, talking through his giggles. "Oh yes! Daddy's getting lucky tonight!"

"Well hey," Michael smirked between them. He leaned in and pulled Roman for a kiss, pressing his lips to his temple, which made the boy giggle again. "Thanks, buddy," Michael whispered. "Say it again," he coaxed, glaring at Sara.

Roman giggled at his daddy, then turned back to Sara. He took a handful of her hair and tugged gently. "Momomomomomom!" Sara laughed quietly then looked up at Michael. "Are you upset he said Mommy first?"

"No!" Michael said with a smile. "But I'd really like to know what I get when he says Daddy," he smirked, tucking her hair behind her ear and pressing his lips to hers playfully.

Sara laughed against his smile and shifted Roman to her other hip. "Whatever you want, baby. I am all yours." She pressed a soft kiss to Roman's head. "You love your daddy, don't you?"

Roman gargled some spit and wiggled in Sara's arms. He reached out and slapped Michael in the face, only to throw his head back with more laughter. Michael let out an audible grunt and rubbed his cheek with feigned pain.

"You're so strong!" Sara held out her hand and Roman gripped her fingers. She held his hand and smiled. "Say, look at my muscles, Daddy!" She kissed Roman's cheek. "Are you stronger than Daddy?"

"I don't think so," Michael shook his head and grinned. "I'll show you," he pointed at his son and plucked him from his mother's arms. He put the boy to the floor and he turned, sat and stared up at his parents. "Now, Roman..." Michael began looking to him on the floor with a smile. "...Can you do this?" he asked with a growl, crouching slightly and locking his arms together behind Sara's knees and lifting her over his shoulder. He turned as Sara giggled, moving her to his desk and pushing the blueprints out of the way before throwing Sara to the desk with a content sigh. "Now who's stronger?" he smiled, pressing his body to hers and letting his smile barely touch hers while Roman clapped and screamed on the floor.

"Mmm. You're my big strong man," Sara whispered playfully against his neck, wrapping her arms around him. Roman continued to let out content squeals from the floor, finding the bear Sara had carried into the room with her. Sara leaned back, smiling at Michael. "I love you more every day."

"Mmm, that's what I like to hear," Michael breathed. "I love you too," he smiled, pressing his lips to hers again. His hands smoothed over her brow and down her face, jumping to her body that he trailed them down wit a hum of content. "How about we call Linc and have him babysit..." Michael whispered against the corner of her mouth.

Sara tilted her head a little, capturing his lips with hers. She kissed him slowly before pulling away and glancing to the floor where Roman was gnawing on his bear's ear. "I think that sounds like an excellent plan." She pressed another kiss to his jaw. "I'll let you have me in any which way you want, Scofield."

"Ooo a treat," Michael growled kissing her again. He lifted himself up and offered her hand to him. "You call Linc," he said, pulling her to her feet, her body slamming into his. "I'll sort Ro out," he said, turning to his son and nudging him with his foot.

Sara kissed Michael again quickly, then leaned down, brushing her lips over Roman's head. "Who wants to stay with Uncle Linc tonight!?" Roman began to puff excitedly as Sara hurried out of the room.

Michael knelt down and lifted his son up with all the effort he could muster. "Oh yeah," Michael nodded to his drooling baby face. "Someone is getting all the girls when he is older," Michael quirked his eyebrow at his son and the boy threw himself back in his dad's arms with laughter.

"Mom!" Roman said firmly, slapping his hand on Michael's shoulder.

"Not exactly, but you'll get it," Michael smiled, bouncing the boy in his arms.

Sara made plans with Lincoln, then walked back into the room, finding Michael and Roman both giggling over something. "You realize how lucky we are that your brother doesn't have a life? That we can call him and he comes right over to pick up this little guy." Sara smiled, then brushed her lips against Michael's ear. "I bought a new little outfit when Ro and I were shopping yesterday."

"Really?" Michael's interest was sparked and he closed the gap between them. "For him, or you?" he growled quietly, holding Roman with one arm around his body and pulling her to him.

Sara held out her hand and Roman grasped onto it. She laid her head on Michael's shoulder and smiled softly. "For me. Or maybe I should say. . . for you?"

"Oh, it's one of those outifts," Michael beamed.

"One of those outfits," Sara confirmed. She pressed her lips to Michael's neck, smiling softly. "Although I regret to inform you that I paid an awful lot for how little material there is to it."

"Did I pay for it?" Michael asked and Sara shook her head gently. "Then I don't care," Michael whispered.

Sara laughed quietly and reached for Roman who transferred happily to her arms. He laid his head on her shoulder and let out a tired sigh as she rocked from side to side. "It's your favorite color."

Michael smirked and let an excited breath leave his body. "Blue..." he breathed the word, letting his eyes fall closed and his imagination fabricated a sexy scantily clad image of Sara's new lingerie.

Sara smirked at Michael's expression, then jumped slightly at the sound of the doorbell. The half-asleep Roman didn't take well to the sound and he began to whimper softly against Sara's shirt.

"Aww, Roman," Michael said softly with a small chuckle as he pulled the crying boy from Sara's arms. Real tears fell down his face and he was genuinely scared of the frightful noise. "Mummy go get that mean doorbell, huh buddy?" he cooed softly as Roman's cried hitched in his throat.

Sara nodded, walking towards the front door and letting Lincoln in. As soon as he stepped inside the house, Roman's wail sounded through the hallway. She smiled softly at Lincoln, "Someone's ready for a nap."

Lincoln smirked. "Yeah, I can hear Michael, but where's the little man?"

Michael emerged from the study, his hand pressed to Roman's face and holding it to his while he hushed his crying with a gentle bounce. "Hey, hey," he said to the boy excitedly. "Look who it is," he smiled and pointed towards Lincoln.

Roman sniffed a few times and let his tears subside for a second. He turned and blinked towards Lincoln a few times before bursting out in a smile. "Linc," he announced triumphantly, kicking his legs excitedly against Michael.

Sara let out a squeal of laughter. "Look at that! Two words in one day!" She moved towards her husband and son. "Is that your Uncle Linc?" Roman giggled. "Liiiiiiinc!"

Lincoln laughed loudly and moved towards the boy, holding out his arms. "Look at that! Who's my favorite little boy in the whole world? I think it must be you, Rome. The smartest little guy ever. Come see Uncle Linc."

Michael relinquished his son with a shocked expression. "Well, damn," he breathed, blinking fast and pressing his hand to his cheek. "I'm kinda jealous," Michael smiled at his brother, shaking his head in disbelief. He walked over to the boy, giggling and slapping Lincoln on the shoulder. "Where's daddy, huh big guy? Can you say daddy?" Michael cooed.

"Linc!" Roman screamed again, jiggling in Lincoln's arms. Lincoln let out a hearty laugh.

"I told you he was mine," he winked at Michael and then gave Sara a wry grin. "You said you were going to tell him," he said with mock sympathy and a grin.

"I was going to get around to it!" Sara smirked, moving towards Linc and wrapping her arm around his waist. "I guess Roman beat me to it. Didn't you, little man?" Roman giggled and Sara joined in. "Now we can officially change your name to The Shadyside Motel, hmm?"

Roman giggled again, tossing himself back against Linc's chest. "Momomom!"

Michael rolled his eyes and turned to stalk back to his office. "You two are not funny," he called behind him as he entered the doorway. Roman watched his father go and just as he stepped over the threshold, shouted his uncle's name again. "You either Ro!" Michael sang down the hall.

Sara let out a quiet sigh and moved to get Roman's overnight back. She handed it to Linc, then kissed Ro's cheek. "We'll call you guys later, okay? Don't feed him any sweets." Roman giggled and reached for Sara, spewing out her name again. She pulled him into her arms and let him give her a wet kiss before handing him back to Lincoln. "Who knows, Linc. We might pick him up later tonight. From the look on Michael's face, he's not going to be up for anything tonight."

Lincoln chuckled from the ridiculous actions of his younger brother. "Think we've gone too far?" Lincoln smirked, heading for the door and pulling it open. He pulled a little tiny denim jacket onto Roman and held him in one arm whilst he stepped out onto the concrete steps. "No, me either," he grinned and shook Roman's hand up and down before he pulled the door closed and disappeared.

Sara watched out the front window as Lincoln's car pulled out of the driveway. Slowly she made her way back to Michael's office, where he sat in his chair pouting. She leaned against the doorway for a second, arms crossed. "You are mad at your 8-month-old?"

Michael swiveled his chair away from her, resting his elbow on the armrest and his clenched fist against his lips as he stared out of the open blinds into their yard. "I'm not mad," he said quietly, biting on his thumbnail  
awkwardly. "Upset. A little bruised around the ego. But I’m not mad," he shrugged.

Sara walked further into the room, running her finger over the framed picture of herself and Roman that set on his desk. "So you're not gonna turn this picture face down or throw it across the room. . . or beat me with it?"

Michael flopped his head back on the chair and looked over at her, rolling his eyes back in his head and letting his glasses fall against his brow. "You think I would?" he smirked. "Well, not with a photograph. I can think of more interesting things to beat you with."

Sara laughed quietly, perching herself on top of his desk. She swung her legs and shook her head. "You're his daddy. He loves you."

"I know," Michael smiled, pushing his feet on the floor and rolling his leather chair across the laminate flooring towards the center of the desk where Sara sat. He stopped, just a hairsbreadth from her swinging legs and leaned back in his chair. "How much do you love me?" he growled, resting his chin in his hand and trying to hide his smile behind a few fingers across his mouth.

Sara tilted her head, moving her feet to rest in his lap. She studied him closely for several seconds and then shrugged. "Eh. You know. Enough."

Michael laughed low in his chest and pulled his chair forward a few inches. "Enough..." he copied her words with a twisted grin. "...Just enough?" he raised an eyebrow and moved his hand from his face to smooth over her feet and sneak up under her jeans to tickled her lower leg. He shuffled the chair forward a few more inches and her foot slipped further up his lap, resting on his crotch. "Want to show me how much is enough?" he smirked.

Sara grinned and wiggled her toes, pressing them gently into the material of his jeans. She could feel him harden against her and her grin turned to a smirk. "Oh yeah, Scofield. There are a few things I'd like to show you."

Michael licked his lips and looked to her toes wiggling on his hardening erection. "Like...?" he breathed, looking back up to her over his glasses.

Sara stood, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips before moving towards the door of the office. She leaned into the doorway and smiled, tugging the hem of her shirt up and exposing her stomach. "You take some clothes off. I'll be right back."

Michael felt a sudden urge of excitement escape its confines and rush through his blood. He pulled his glasses from his face and let them slide across his desk into a stack of paper. He grabbed the back of the collar of his shirt and yanked it over his head, tossing it onto his desk. He looked to the doorway, waiting for Sara to return, but her figure did not appear so he began unbuttoning his pants.

Sara hurried upstairs and dug through her clothing, coming across the small pink bag. She quickly discarded her clothes and tugged on the small scrap of dark blue material. Fluffing her hair in the mirror, she smirked. It had been worth every penny. On her way back to the office, she took a detour to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. She tugged open the bottom drawer, smiling when she found what she had hidden. Dark chocolate and kirsch cherries. Smirking, she grabbed the treats and hurried back to Michael.

"Well, hey..." Michael grinned, spinning in his chair to face her in just his boxer. They were peaked at the front with his eagerness and he sucked in a massive breath when he saw her leaning against the door frame with a coy smile. "...wow..." was all he could whisper, letting his wide eyes roam over her barely covered body hungrily. "...that has..." Michael gulped, feeling his grip on his armrests tighten. "...no panties."

Sara glanced down at her body then looked back up at him, a slight blush on her cheeks. She moved into the room, setting the chocolate sauce and the cherries down on the desk. She perched on the desk next to them, crossing her legs. "Is that okay?"

Michael nodded quickly, a broad grin on his face. "You bet," he breathed. His eyes flicked to the cherries and chocolate sitting beside her and his lips twitched into a seductive smile. "Where were they hidden?" he rasped, leaning forward and brushing his hand over her bare knees when his self-control left him.

Sara smiled softly and uncrossed her legs when his hand touched her. She spread her knees just slightly. "In the bottom drawer of the fridge. I just got them yesterday morning." She reached for the bottle, uncapping it and squirting a long, dark trail along her finger. She stuck her finger in her mouth, and closed her eyes, pulling it out slowly. "Mmmm. . ."

Michael bit his bottom lips and shuffled his feet against the floor, bouncing his knees excitedly. "That taste good, baby?" he breathed, rolling the chair across the floor even more until he could feel along her thigh and around to her behind. He studied her face, trying to keep his thoughts from her glorious sex in front of him, her scent filling his nostrils every time he inhaled. "Talk to me, Sara..." he coaxed her with a gentle tickle on her spine.

Sara smiled down at him and nodded slowly. "Yeah, baby. It tastes so good." She picked up the bottled, squirting another trail over the same finger. She brought it up to her lips, then paused, arching an eyebrow. "Want to taste, Michael?"

"Oh yeah..." he breathed, his voice almost shaking with anticipation.

Sara smirked, leaning closer and holding her finger out to him. Pressing her lips to his ear, she whispered, "What else do you want to taste?"

"You..." Michael whispered back, holding her wrist tightly as he sucked the rich, dark chocolate from her skin with a hum. "...I want to taste you..." he licked her finger again and then pulled his head back to look into her eyes while he moved her hand in between her legs until she groaned from touching herself. "...like this," he growled.

"Michael. . ." Sara's eyes fluttered shut as he guided her finger into herself. She let out a quiet involuntary moan and forced her eyes back open. "I want you to taste me, baby. Do you like how I taste?"

Michael leaned closer so her knees bumped his chest and he pushed her finger further into her hot core with a gentle force. "You taste amazing," he whispered, catching her half-lidded stare as she assaulted her own body. "Let me taste you..." he begged.

"Only if you promise I get to taste you later. . ." Sara trailed off, removing her finger slowly from herself. She lulled her head to the side and watched him, already feeling half-drowsy with passion. Michael had the ability to ignite her unlike anyone else ever had.

"Oh, baby..." Michael moaned, pulling her hand to his mouth and sucking her still hot juices from her fingers with a slow, languid motion. "...You can taste me whenever you want to," he licked his lips, gulping her taste down his throat and kissing her fingers afterward. His eyes flicked towards the chocolate sitting beside her, the cap sprung open and a drizzle running down the bottle. Michael looked back up at her, leaning back in his chair with the chocolate in his hand. "Do you...do you want to taste me now?" he smirked.

"I want to taste you right now. . ." Sara murmured. She leaned forward, the thin material doing little to contain her cleavage. "Show me where you want me to taste you, baby."

Michael was silent for a second, a dry lump forming in his throat when his eyes became transfixed on Sara's heaving cleavage. He became harder just looking at her. He slid further down in the chair, a wicked smirk across his face as he looked down his body. He lifted the sauce and tipped the bottle upside down, letting it drizzle from the opening onto his chest and slowly down his body. "Start here," he said huskily, leaning his arms out to the sides and waiting for her to mount him.

Sara climbed onto his lap, settling her legs on either side of him. She pressed a quick kiss to his neck before leaning back and lapping at the bottom of the chocolate trail. She worked her way up, then pulled away. "Mmm. I think I'm moving in the wrong direction."

Michael reached under her body and pushed his boxers down over his erection until it was free and brushing against her inner thighs. When Sara leaned back slightly to inspect her prize, Michael drizzled more of the chocolate over his member, hissing when the coldness touched his scorching flesh. "You hungry?" he smirked dirtily, his voice rough and breathy.

Sara slid slowly off of Michael's lap, moving to rest on her knees in front of him. She smirked, and licked her bottom lip, moving her gaze up to his eyes. "Starved." Leaning in, she flicked her tongue across the tip of his erection. "Mmm." Slowly, she licked the rest of the chocolate off of him.

"Sara..." Michael hissed her name, watching her lick him and suck on his skin. He reached out a hand and gently moved the curtain of fine, silky auburn hair from his view, holding it at the back of her head while she tasted him. He held his breath the entire time she was on him, finally breathing a content sigh and smiling down at her grinning face. "...And what are the cherries for?" he quirked and eyebrow at her.

Sara stood and screwed the jar off the cherries, giving him an excellent view of her backside as she did. "It's your fantasy baby. You tell me." Turning around she shrugged and popped one into her mouth. Leaning over him, she offered him the cherry between her teeth.

Michael let out a short laugh and smoothed his hands down her body as he licked at the cherry in between her teeth. He teased her constantly, threatening to take the cherry and then moving away with a grin. Finally, he crushed his mouth to hers and the cherry slid into his mouth and was lost in a duet of tongues. "Mmm..." Michael groaned slowly when he came up for air, chewing the cherry quickly and swallowing it. "...In my fantasies you always come up with some original way to incorporate them," he smirked, letting her lead the role play.

Sara smirked, reaching for another cherry. She glanced down and smiled. "Oooh. Looks like I missed a little." She trailed the cherry over a dabble of chocolate, taking some of the pre-cum from his tip with it. She popped the cherry in her mouth and moaned. "Mmmm. That tastes like my Michael."

Michael gritted his jaw together and flinched as the smooth cherry skin skimmed over his sensitive tip. "How does Michael taste?" he gulped, his eyes closed and head thrown back against the chair.

Sara closed her eyes, swallowing the cherry slowly. "Mmm, my Michael tastes a little salty but mostly sweet." She opened her eyes. "So, so sweet."

Michael smiled sweetly. "Just like my Sara," he grinned, rolling his head forward to meet her gaze. He slipped his hand down her arm, gently moving her hand to his erection again and stroking himself with her delicate touch. "Tell me..." he gulped, the muscles in his abdomen tightening. "...How does Michael feel?"

"Michael feels nice and hard. . ." Sara murmured, taking over the stroking from Michael and increasing her pace. She kissed his neck. "Sara likes it when Michael's hard."

Michael let out a breathy laugh against her shoulder. "I bet you do..." he whispered. "...you filthy girl," Michael said through a clenched jaw, gripping both hands to her ass and pulling her to straddle him again. He brushed his hand past hers and slicked his fingers across her opening. "Oh, baby...Michael likes it when Sara is all wet..." he slipped a lubricated finger into her and she moaned. "...and so hot..."

"You make me that way," Sara's eyes fluttered shut. She pressed a soft kiss against his mouth, letting out a quiet groan. "Michael? Sara wants you inside her."

Michael pulled Sara's body harder into the chair, pulling her against his erection with a grunt. He leaned up, catching her bottom lip in his teeth and sucking on it hard. "Put me there, baby," Michael growled.

Sara reached between their bodies, positioning him at her entrance. She slid slowly onto him, moaning in his ear as he filled her completely. "Oh yeah. Do you know how good that feels?"

Michael moaned, digging his fingers into her skin and letting his eyes flutter closed. "I do from this end. God, Sara..." he hissed. "...you feel so good."

"Not as good as you feel," Sara whispered, brushing her lips across his. "God, Michael." She moaned loudly, moving up and down on him. "Oh, yeah. Just like that."

Michael suddenly thrust up into her and held her still on him, his member fully buried within her. "How's that?" he growled with a taught jaw, sliding from her again slowly and entering her center with another sharp pleasant pain. Sara let out a desperate whimper and gripped at his shoulders. "You like that, baby?" he soothed, repeating his action.

"Oh yeah." Sara kept her eyes shut. She couldn't raise her voice above a whisper. She slid her arms around his neck, pressing her mouth to his. "God, we are not alone enough."

Michael loosened his grip on Sara's body and pressed his mouth to hers. He kissed her hard and he bruised her lips doing it, leaving them red and slightly wet with his open-mouthed attack. "I want you to ride me...fuck me hard baby," Michael growled against the corner of her mouth, stopping his thrusts and sitting back in the chair with a pant. "I'm all yours."

Sara gripped onto his shoulders, tossing her head back as she increased the pace of her thrusts. She ground into him, moaning loudly each time he impaled her. She leaned forward, pressing her mouth to his chest. "Let's. . . have another baby."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa..." Michael panted with a frown, stopping her movements with a firm grip. "You want...now? While Roman is so young?" he breathed.

Sara paused her thrusting, catching her breath. "I. . . ah. . ." She cleared her throat. "No?"

Michael narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying that because you're afraid i'll say no?" he said, his breathing ragged and his aching erection only half satisfied inside of her.

Sara brushed her lips across his neck, thrusting against him a bit. Her moan caught in her throat. "We said we wanted them to be close in age. Maybe we should wait til he's. . . oh yeah. . . one though."

Michael shuddered when she began moving again, hissing from the friction. "I want you to be happy," he said, stroking her hair from face and tucking it behind her ear. His fingers brushed against the skin there and Sara's eyes fluttered closed. "But we can't name this one after anything in this room," he laughed, pressing his forehead against hers.

Sara brushed her lips against his. "I want you to be happy. I love you. More than anything ever." She moved her lips to his neck, then rested them on his collarbone. "Now make me come."

Michael growled huskily in her ear, holding her still while he began to pound into her. "Yes...baby..." he said obediently. He moved faster, in and out with a powerful thrust and a slightly rough edge to his forceful movements. He would make her come, and he would make her come hard. "Fuck, Sara..." Michael whimpered, his words barely audible over his panting.

Sara's breath hitched in her throat. She clung onto Michael, crying out his name as she came. She clenched around him, moaning into his shoulder. "Oh yeah, baby. Oh yes. . ."

Sara's muscles gripped at Michael's erection, pulling him deeper with each thrust. Her cries filled the office when she came and Michael relentlessly pushed into her harder, finding his own orgasm a minute later. "Oh, Sara..." he grunted, slowly his thrusts as the pressure behind his release gave way. "...shit...fuck...oh, baby..." Michael's slurry of words was shivery at best and he emptied himself deep inside of her with a few weak jerks of his hips.

Sara pressed her forehead against his, trying to catch her breath. Brushing her lips against his she laughed quietly. "Wow."

"You said it," Michael panted, slamming his head into the back of the chair and gulping hard.

"Can you explain to me. . ." Sara laughed softly, still unable to breathe correctly. "How you are so amazing?"

Michael peeled his eyes open and looked at her. His heart still pounded in his chest and his blood still flowed at super high speed around his body. "Nope," he shook his head with a smile. "But I know I’m like it because of you."

Sara leaned back on him, studying his naked body. "You bring out the best in me." She kissed his jaw line. "Let's go pick Ro up."

Michael frowned at her. "But Linc has him all night," he smirked, pushing himself to his feet and holding her to him so his semi-hard penis was still inside of her. "And If you want another baby..." he quirked an eyebrow, carrying her through the office doorway and towards the stairs. "...we need all the alone time we can get," he grinned, stepping up the stairs slowly.

"You left your clothes in the office. . ." Sara teased quietly as he carried her upstairs. She kissed him softly. "You want another baby too?"

Michael kicked their bedroom door open and threw them both down on the bed with a giggle. He leaned up slightly, smoothing his hand over Sara's brow and brushing the hair from her smiling face. "I'd love more children with you," he smiled sweetly, pressing his lips to hers.

"But I just got my figure back. . ." Sara smirked, rolling her eyes slightly. She had stopped breast feeding and chasing their boy around was helping her get back into shape. "Do you want your wife fat again?"

"You..." Michael said firmly, pressing his fingertip to her nose. "...were never fat." He smiled at her and kissed her neck, gently teasing her body back into arousal as his own virility began to awake once more. "You were beautiful," he whispered into her ear, his hot breath condensing around the skin and making her shudder beneath him.

"Well, if that's the way you feel. . ." Sara brushed her lips over his neck. She met his lips in a slow kiss. "Then let's make a baby."


	41. Chapter 41

Sara walked into the front door, tossing her keys onto the table. She slid out of her coat and glanced down the hallway to Michael's office. She had just come back from dropping Roman off at Linc's while Michael finished up some work. "Baby?" She stuck her head into his office and he wasn't there. "Michael, I'm home."

"In the kitchen!" Michael called, his words closely followed by a clatter.

Sara arched an eyebrow and headed towards the kitchen. "What are you doing in there? I expected you to be waiting in the bedroom."

Michael's laughter echoed through the kitchen area and he lit the candles in the center of the table with a smile. "Don't come in!" Michael called, whipping the towel from his back pocket and wiping his hands. He shot a glance around the place, smoothing out a few wrinkles in the tablecloth before backing towards the kitchen door and smiling to himself when he saw Sara waiting outside. "Hey, baby," he grinned, pressing his lips to hers quickly. "Close your eyes."

"Close my eyes?" Sara grinned widely. "Do you have a surprise for me?" She fluttered her eyes closed, waiting for him to lead her into the kitchen. "But I don't have a surprise for you. If I had known we were doing this, I'd have come prepared."

Michael shrugged and grinned wider, taking her hand and sliding his body behind hers to shuffled her into the kitchen. "It's just something I thought of while you were out," Michael sang modestly. He smiled again when he saw the dinner he had prepared steaming slowly on either side of the table, lit by the flickering candles in between the plates. Michael placed his hands over Sara's eyes to make sure she couldn't peak and leaned in close to her ear. "You smell that?" he inhaled deeply, the scent of cheese and Italian sauce filling his nostrils.

"I do," Sara murmured. She turned her head slightly, smiling when her lips brushed across his cheek. "And I'm starved so I hope you set the oven to the right temperature."

Michael chuckled low in his throat. "Yes I did," he smirked. He took his hands from her face and fiddled with his belt nervously. His black pants were neatly pressed and complimented his black shirt that was unbuttoned a third of the way down his chest and had its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His chrome belt buckle, neatly polished and modernly discreet on his waist, drew attention to his figure and upon looking down, the casual observer would see he was barefoot. Michael placed his hands on her shoulders and whispered into her ear huskily. "Open your eyes."

Sara's eyes fluttered open and she took in the kitchen, her grin growing even wider. "Michael, you shouldn't have gone do so much trouble. . ." He had taken out the nice table cloth and lit candles. She turned to face him, her eyes glancing up and down his body. "Wow, and look at you. I'm a little underdressed."

"You look beautiful," Michael smiled sweetly, pulling her to him and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Trust me. Just gorgeous," he whispered, leaning down for a kiss. "I just wanted to try a few things I read in a magazine...I mean, last time we were in Italy, we came home with Ro. So I thought, why not bring Italy here," he smiled.

Sara leaned in and met Michael's lip in a slow kiss. Pulling away she smirked, turning back to the table. "So the magazine said in order to get your wife pregnant you should cook her dinner? That might be the smartest magazine I've ever heard of."

"Nooooo," Michael cooed with a shake of his head. "It said to recreate a previously successful situation," he said, pulling the chair out of the table and motioning for Sara to sit down. "And so, Italy," he said triumphantly. "It said other things, but we can try those later," he smirked, taking his seat opposite her.

Sara set down in the seat and grabbed the cloth napkin, flattening it on her lap. She smirked up at him, and started to make a joke, but stopped herself. He had gone to all this trouble for her, because they had been trying so hard for another baby. Her smile softened and she reached out, grabbing his hand. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

"You saved me," Michael said, keeping eye contact when Sara looked up at him. He didn't smile but kept his face serious, twiddling his fork in his hand while he rested back in his chair, an elbow over the back of his chair and his head titled slightly as he looked at her lovingly.

Sara tilted her head and kept her eyes locked to his for a moment. Finally, she shook her head slightly, dropping her voice to a whisper. "You saved me."

Michael shook his head. "You never needed saving. You just needed loving," he smiled, tucking into his lasagne. "Did you think you'd have all of this when I kissed you that time?" Michael asked, popping a forkful of the meaty food into his mouth. "Why did you have so much faith in me, Sara? Why did you give me that 'one more day'?" Michael asked with a thankful smile.

Sara glanced around their kitchen then smiled back at him. "I never really let myself think this far ahead. A real life with you, a baby with you. . ." She trailed off and took a bite, chewing slowly. "You're an easy person to have faith in, Michael. And no matter what I never stopped trusting you. And I never will." She paused. "When did you know I was something more than you planned for?"

"Remember that riot? Remember getting lifted from the ceiling by a handsomely rugged convict?" He smirked. "And I knew you cared more than you let on when you kept trying to protect me," Michael smiled, taking another bite and chewing with another smirk. "I can only imagine the horrific way you killed John Abruzzi after he took my toes...and you knew obviously."

Sara rolled her eyes slightly and swallowed the bite in her mouth before taking a long drink. "I understood why you didn't tell me who was doing those things to you. . . but I really wanted you to, Michael." She paused and smirked. "And I always hoped that there was more than just your need to constantly save that led you to come help me."

"There was," he said quietly, looking down at his half eaten lasagne and prodding it with the prongs of his fork. "I just couldn't tell you then," he said looking back up to her with an intense stare.

Sara held his gaze for a moment, then stood up walking slowly over to him. She parted his knees with her leg and kneeled onto the chair in between his legs. "I love you, Michael." Without waiting for a response, she leaned in, kissing him slowly.

Michael kissed her back, moving his hand to rest on her hip as he did so. He dropped his fork and it clattered on the white plate, and then his hand moved to cup her face. He tilted his head back, falling back against the chair and opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, licking Sara's bottom lip and gently encouraging her tongue into his mouth to play with his. A low groan escaped his throat and he pushed his hand under the waistband of her jeans and into her panties, cupping her behind with a smirk.

Sara leaned further into him, bringing her hands up to unbutton his shirt. Slowly they moved down his chest, slowly unbuttoning each button. She scraped her teeth across his bottom lip. "So what's this bedroom surprise?"

"Who said it was a bedroom surprise?" he quirked an eyebrow, smoothing his hands over her warm skin as she unbuttoned his shirt.

Sara smoothed her hands over his shoulders, pushing his shirt down. She leaned over, pressing soft kisses to the newly exposed skin. "Well, we could do it right here but I don't think that would be very comfortable for you." She moved her kisses to his neck. "I want you to make love to me."

"I can do that..." he said in a hushed voice, tilting his head back and letting his eyes flutter closed as she kissed him. "...but what I had in mind was a little less...love...and a little more...dirty," he smirked.

Sara nipped gently at his neck and pulled away, arching an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" She leaned back in, sucking on his bottom lip. "And what do you have in mind?"

Michael clenched his jaw and groaned low in his throat. "I read...in this magazine..." he clarified with a quick nod. "...that...mmmm, yeah..." he gulped. "...that it helps fertility...if you...talk dirty to me," he smirked.

Sara laughed softly, moving her kisses down to his neck and nipping gently at his skin. She giggled and ran her tongue along his Adam's apple. "We can try that."

"You laugh now, Scofield," Michael laughed with her. "But when you're pregnant...you'll be thanking me with many more...sessions," he grinned playfully. He dropped his head to watch his hands as they slid around her body to her jeans and begun unbuttoning them. "Upstairs?" he looked up and kissed her again. "Or downstairs?" he looked to the lounge and smiled wickedly.

"I'll leave it up to you, baby," Sara murmured, pressing another kiss to his mouth as he began to push her jeans down. She moved her lips to his ear and nibbled on his earlobe. "What's your pleasure?"

"Oh so many things," Michael smiled, pushing one last time and letting Sara's jeans pool at her ankles. "Right now?" he tickled his hands back up her thighs and pulled her onto his lap. "You are."

Sara stepped out of her jeans and straddled his waist. She met his lips in a long, heated kiss then pulled away, smiling. "Carry me upstairs."

Michael gripped at her behind and lifted her into the air, letting her wrap her legs around his waist. "Yes, mistress," Michael growled against her face before seizing her lips in a frenzied kiss. He walked them from the kitchen and began to scale the stairs, letting his hands roam up under her top and over her back.

"You getting too old for this baby?" Sara smirked against Michael's lips. She pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. "Are we going to have to get one of those electronic seats that go up the stairs?"

"Old?" Michael pulls back surprised, reaching the top of the stairs and staring at her in shock. "When were insults classed as dirty?" he smirked, stumbling down the hall a bit further before he let out a grunt and slammed their bodies into the wall outside of their room. "Do I have to remind you what dirty is?" he growled, dipping his head to nip at an irresistible patch of skin on Sara's collarbone.

Sara let out a quiet moan and fluttered her eyes closed, holding onto Michael tighter. "Hmm. Dirty talk?" She paused, biting her lower lip. "Michael, I spend all day playing with a one year old, okay? My idea of dirty talk is 'No Roman. don't put your stuffed cow in the potty.'" She kissed him again. "Remind me."

Michael kissed her back, bracing her against the wall as he pulled her shirt up and over her head. He quickly reached out to grab her and stop her from falling as he hoisted her further up his body again. "Remind you?" He whispered, taking one of Sara's arms in his hand and pinning her wrist to the wall above her head. He moved his face to nuzzle the side of hers, letting his hot, ragged breath echo in her ear. "You want me to remind you how hard I am going to fuck you?" he growled gruffly. He let her slide down his body a little, stopping her when she landed in line with his arousal that he ground into her own, pressing her harder against the wall. "How I'm going to make you scream?" he breathed with gritted teeth.

Sara let out a loan moan, thrusting her hips just slightly into him. "Oh, yeah?" She met his lips in another heated kiss then pulled slowly away. "What if I fuck you harder? What if I push you on the bed and ride you until your begging me to let you come?"

Michael let out a seductive laugh, the sound leaving his throat in a filthy array of giggles. Michael smirked and grabbed her face, roughly pulling her lips to his and kissing her hard and fast. Finally, he pulled away from her and sucked in a deep breath, eyeing her entire body as his darkened bluey orbs roamed over her half naked torso. "There's my dirty girl," he smiled devilishly, tearing her from the wall and kicking open the bedroom door.

Sara giggled and smiled as he carried her towards the bed. He dropped her down and she let out a slight scoff. Smirking, she grabbed his belt, tugging it off. "Where's my big, hard friend?"

Michael moved to help her hand, pulling his pants open harshly and letting his erection spring free into the room. "Oh he's right here baby," Michael breathed, shoving Sara's hand against his baking hot hardness. "And he wants a hot..." Michael crawled over Sara's body again slowly, prowling like a big cat. "...wet..." he whispered until he was eye level with her. Michael dipped his head and pressed his lips to her ear lobe, sucking on the soft skin while his hand reached between their bodies and stroked over Sara's damp panties. "...pussy..." he choked out, his own words leaving him more aroused than he thought they would.

Sara quickly wiggled out of her panties, tugging Michael back on the bed. She pushed him back against the pillows and straddled his waist. Leaning over him, she positioned her hips so he was barely inside her. "Tell me how bad you want me."

"I want you so badly it hurts," Michael whispered huskily. "Take off your bra so I can taste those fine nipples of yours," he growled, feeling his eyes flutter closed as Sara's hot core heated his sensitive tip. "Oh baby, I want you to fuck me and then, while you come the first time, I want you to taste yourself on me."

"Do you like that?" Sara shifted down onto him just a little bit, then pulled back away. She caught his lower lip in between her teeth. "What if I don't fuck you, Michael? What if I do myself and make you watch?"

Michael smirked, wincing as she bit on his lip. "Dinner and a show," he grinned, gripping her hips and quirking his eyebrow. "What if I can tease for longer?" Michael grunted, holding her still while he thrust up into her once hard and fast before pulling himself free again.

"I bet I can hold out longer than you." Sara murmured the words, fluttering her eyes shut. She moved off of him a bit, holding his hips down. She darted her tongue out, barely touching his tip. "Hmm. How does Michael taste tonight?"

"Suck it and see baby," Michael grinned wickedly, resting his head back on his interlocked fingers.

"Hmm. . ." Sara darted her tongue over him again. "Do I want to?" She took the tip in her mouth and sucked for a moment before pulling away. "I think maybe I just want to. . ." She trailed her finger slowly down her stomach and over her folds before dipping it into herself. "Oh, yeah."

"Fuck..." Michael breathed, shifting on the bed and taking his erection in his hand. He began stroking slowly as he watched her, tilting his head for a better view of her hand as it worked in and out of herself. Michael bit his bottom lip and smiled at her half open eyes as she threw her head back. "Maybe..." Michael said, springing upright and towering over her. "...Maybe I should help," he said through wet, hot kisses down her body until he finally met her hand, kissing over her knuckles and darting his tongue out to taste her.

"Oh, God. . ." Sara's breath caught in her throat and she sat forward, pushing Michael back down to the bed. "I am going to fuck you so hard and fast. . ."

Michael hit the bed and his breath left him and he grinned up at her excitedly. "Told you I would last longer..." he growled, sitting up to capture her mouth with his.

Sara rolled her eyes and straddled him. "Michael, shut up and let me ride you." Without waiting for a response, she roughly sank down on him, tightening her knees around his thighs.

Michael's body shuddered with her warmth around him and he dug the back of his head into the pillows. "Hard and fast, baby..." Michael whispered. "...fuck me now."

Sara pressed her hand into his chest and leaned back, closing her eyes. She rolled her hips against his, letting out long moans. "I love how you feel inside of me."

"It only gets better," Michael panted as she ground down on him. He gripped at her smooth silky skin of her hips and met her hips with a slightly angled jolt of his own each time. "God, Sara..." he breathed, gritting his teeth. "...You're so wet...I can feel you...come for me," Michael ordered her smoothly, moving his hand to the space between their bodies and rubbing his thumb over her clitoris.

Sara hissed a slow breath, and kissed him hard. She shook her head. "You . . . come. . . first. Scofield."

"Turn around," Michael ordered her harshly in a velvety voice. "Let me see that ass," he hissed.

Sara did as he said, shifting her body so she was facing away from him. She leaned forward, letting out a moan. "You like that?"

Michael laid back further on the bed, watching as he disappeared into her aching core each time she sank onto his member. He grabbed a handful of milky flesh on her behind and pushed it up so he could see her juices slicking across his abdomen. "Fuck..." he breathed again, gulping hard as he felt the inside of Sara's cervix from a totally new angle. "...harder."

Sara leaned further forward on the bed, placing her hands on the comforter. She rocked back into Michael's hips and groaned. "Fuck, Michael. I'm coming."

"I feel you, baby," Michael moaned, quickly scrambling to his knees and draping himself over Sara's back. He thrust into her from behind so quickly he held his breath to hold off his orgasm. Sara's squeals filled his ears and they were filled with half pleasure and half pain as he jerked his hip against her body and snaked his hand over her flat stomach and rolled her clitoris under two fingers. "Oh shit, Sara...I'm gonna..." Michael gasped into her ear. "...I'm coming...I’m coming...fuck," he panted, pressing his sweaty forehead to Sara's damp shoulder blade as he felt is release explode from him.

Sara panted against the side of his face, letting out tiny moans with each roll of his fingers. "Fuck. Fuck. . . Michael. God, yes. That is so. . ." Her voice trailed off, and she took a deep breath trying to get control of her frantic breathing.

Michael began to breath again but it was harsh, uneven and rapid. His heart beat so hard in his chest Sara could feel it on her back and he moved in and out of her slower, riding them both down form their orgasms. "Oh my god..." Michael panted, smirking against Sara's face as he kissed the corner of her mouth. "...I love it when you talk dirty," he smiled, pressing his forehead to the side of hers before pulling himself from her weakened core and collapsing backwards onto the bed.

Sara let out a quiet laugh and moved to lay down next to him. She relaxed for a moment, getting control of her breathing. When she was calm she turned back to him. "I remember a Michael Scofield who wanted nothing more than to make slow, sweet love to me."

"Is that a complaint?" Michael arched an eyebrow at her. "Don't worry," he soothed, taking her hand in his and laying it over his heart. "He's still in here."

"It was not a complaint!" Sara rolled her eyes and rolled over to him, pushing her hair out of her face. "I love any kind of sex with you, Michael." She trailed her hand down his chest. "It was just easier to do it when it was just you and me."

Michael rolled sideways so he was facing her and propped his head up on his elbow. "You miss this as much as I do?" he chuckled lightly. "You think Linc knows we let him have Roman when we want some?" he smirked, unable to resist the urge to reach out and brush a strand of hair from her face.

Sara smirked and shrugged, nodding her head slowly. "Of course he does. He's not stupid." She leaned down, kissing Michael's chest. "I miss him when he's gone though, don't you? I know he's sleeping now, but I wish he was here so I could. . . go watch him breathe or something."

"I don't miss my broken sleep pattern," Michael said with a shrug. "So...on a scale of one to ten, one being laughable and ten being an instant orgasm...where does my wife rate my filthy sex talk?" Michael smirked at her, smoothing his hand down her ribcage and over her hip where it danced in circles on her thigh. "Be honest."

Sara giggled and stretched her legs, intertwining them with his. "Hmm. . . instant orgasm, hmm?" She pressed a slow kiss to his neck. "You're a solid seven. I guess we'll have to keep working on it, huh?"

"Only a seven?" Michael asked shocked and a little hurt. "I put my heart into that performance," he pouted.

"A seven. . . hundred. . ." Sara rolled her eyes, leaning her body into his. "Oh yea. . . oh god. . . keep talking. . . I think I'm going to come again."

"You mock me now..." he said slowly, rolling her over until his back was pressed against hers. He draped his arm over her shoulder, hugging her protectively to his chest and nuzzling into her hair as it splayed out on his pillow. "...but you'll want more," he said confidently, planting a kiss to her shoulder.

Sara smiled, snuggling her body back into his. "Oh, Michael. You know I'll never be able to get enough of you." She closed her eyes. "I love you."

Michael let out a content sigh and his eyes fluttered closed. "I love you too," he whispered, lacing his fingers through Sara's in one hand while her other gripped at his forearm, holding it to her breasts. "Enjoy the peace," he groaned as his sleep overtook him. "Tomorrow, we officially won't get to have sex for another week."

Sara laughed quietly. "You know, Linc would take Roman every night if we wanted him to." She dropped her head, kissing Michael's arm. "But I'd miss him. I love our baby. More than sex. Sorry, honey."

"Me too," Michael protested weakly, grumbling his words into her hair. He thought about telling her goodnight or cracking a joke about them having all the sex they wanted when Roman was eighteen, but all that came from him was the soft manly snoring on each deep breath as he fell asleep.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Mild scenes of rape.

Sara walked out of the mall, glancing around the nearly empty darkened parking lot. When she had arrived she's had to park far away, it had been crowded. Now her car was one of the very few left in the lot. Clutching all her bags in one hand, she dug in her purse for her cell phone and clicked 'HOME' on the speed dial. Michael picked up on the second ring, and she grinned. "How are my boys?"

Michel smiled at the handset, pinning it to the side of his face so he could hear her voice better. Michael looking over into the lounge when he heard Roman giggling and watched Lincoln repeatedly hide behind his massive hands and jump out at the black haired boy. “We are good,” Michael said with a laugh. “I think Linc has actually lowered in age since we’ve had Roman,” he smiled, crossing one arm across his chest and watching his brother play with his nephew.

Sara laughed, trying to successfully juggle her phone and bags, while trying to get her keys out. "I can hear him giggling! I love his giggle so much." She smirked. "I'm sure he's been going on and on about how much he misses Mommy, right?"

Michael felt a laugh rumble from his chest when Roman clapped his hands to either side of Lincoln’s head and the huge man tumbled to the floor in feigned defeat. “Lincoln or Roman?” he smirked, watching Lincoln roll onto his back with his head between Roman’s open legs and making tiny squeaking sounds when the baby poked his face.

"Roman, of course. Although I'm sure Linc does miss me, right?" Sara laughed quietly as she approached her car. "It felt good to get out and shop though. I bought you a new pair of pants. And some shoes."

“Do I need shoes?” Michael said, looking down at the pair of unbelievably comfortable but well-worn black leather shoes sitting behind the front door. “Wait, do I need pants?” he quirked an eyebrow. “This shopping trip was supposed to be for you to relax and unwind…and spend my money,” he smiled.

"You can always use new shoes and pants, baby. And I did unwind, trust me. And I spent lots of your money! Tell Ro I'm on my way home, okay?" She reached the car and giggled. "Plus, I got a little outfit that maybe I can put on tonight after Roman is in bed? I think you'll really --" Sara's sentence was cut off as she felt an arm go around her neck. Letting out a muffled shriek, she dropped her phone, bags and purse to the ground.

“Sara?” Michael said slowly, pulling the phone from his ear to stare at it. He pressed it back to his ear and could hear the scuffle of feet and the muffled scream of a woman. “Sara?” he repeated, louder, grabbing the attention of Lincoln from the lounge.

“Shut up!” the man hissed into Sara’s ear, clamping his hands firmly over her mouth and holding her to his body. “Play nice. Do exactly as I say and I won’t hurt you,” he growled. His voice was that of a smoker, tainted with a slight crackle and his breath rancid as he panted against Sara’s face in the darkness.

Sara let out a muffled shriek into his hand and squirmed under his body. She didn't have anything to use to stop him. She felt a lump form in her throat as she continued to squirm.

Linc picked Roman up, cradling him to his shoulder and walking over to Michael. "What's going on?"

Michael frowned and held the phone to the side of Lincoln’s head. “I don’t know,” he said quickly. “It sounds like Sara dropped her phone,” he said casually, not hearing the attackers whispers. “But she hasn’t picked it up yet.”

The man’s breath was ragged against Sara’s ear and he let one of his grubby hands glide over her body roughly, down her stomach where it rested at the edge of her thigh at the hem of her skirt. Sara gasped against his hand, closing her eyes and her breath hitching in her throat. “Shhh,” he man whispered darkly. “You like this…” he said slowly, tugging Sara’s skirt upwards until he touched her panties and let out an aroused groan. “…remember, Sara?” he rasped, tightening his grip on her face and rubbing his calloused hands over the front of her panties. “Remember me?”

Lincoln listened for a moment, then stepped away from the phone, shaking his head. He bobbled Roman up and down and shrugged. "Maybe she doesn't know where it went."

Sara cried out into his hand as tears fell from her eyes. She wrenched back and forth but couldn't get him off of her. She recognized his voice. She recognized his smell. He had raped her once, and had every intention of doing it again. The panic swelled inside of her and she struggled harder, attempting to scream.

He tightened his grip on her and stopped her from thrashing against his body. “Now, Sara…” he growled into her ear, looping his arm around hers, pulling them backwards and holding them behind her back. “…I mean it. If you so much as scream…” he grunted, hurriedly pushing her panties down her hips until they pooled at her feet. “…I will kill your son. Do you understand me?” he said gruffly, pushing her face first up against her truck. He fumbled with his own pants, shaking them fall to his ankles in the darkness of the parking lot. He moved his hands from her mouth and gripped at her jaw with a vice like grip, turning her head sharply so she could see him. “Do you understand?” he spat.

Sara's eyes darted back and forth. Roman's face and Michael's face flashed before her eyes and she squeezed them tightly, trying to fight back the tears that wouldn't stop streaming down her cheeks. A choke sobbed left her throat, and she looked up meeting his eyes, nodding. "Are you going to kill me?”

“Oh my god…” Michael gasped, snapping his head up to his brother as he heard Sara’s voice. He held out the phone to Lincoln again.

“Not if you do as I say,” Josh struggled with his words while he reached into his boxers and freed himself, holding Sara’s body to her truck with a large flat palm pressed to her back. “Spread your legs…” he panted, stroking himself quickly with a moan of each long rub and kicking at her feet, moving them outwards. When Sara resisted he kicked at her ankles harder. “Do it! Or I’ll kill you, and your boy!” he spat angrily, his voice raised and attracting the attention of a passer by.

“Michael…wait!” Lincoln called after his brother as he sprinted down his driveway. Michael stopped suddenly, turning to face his brother who threw him his car keys. “Take my car!”

Michael nodded slowly and began walking backwards. “Watch Roman!” Michael called, slamming Lincoln’s car door, neglecting to fasten his seatbelt and screeching from the curb.

Josh stepped closed to her and Sara felt his hands brush her behind as he carried on stroking himself. He pressed his body into Sara’s and hissed in her ear. “God, Sara…I want to make you scream like you did last time…” he growled, rubbing his tip between her buttocks.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?!”

Josh spun around and was met with the furiously shocked face of an older man. He had greying hair cropped short to his head and he looked up and down at the scene before him.

Sara pulled away from him quickly, stumbling backwards and fumbling for where she had dropped her keys. She grabbed for her cell phone and glanced towards the man. "Help!" She raised her voice, stumbling backwards still. "Help me!"

“Shut up!” Josh roared, balling his fist and slapping Sara across the face with the back of his fist. He stumbled to the floor after her, flipping her onto her back and pinning her to the floor.

“Hey!” the older gentlemen shouted, grabbing Josh by the shoulders and pulling him off of Sara. “What the hell do you think you are doing?” the man roared, grabbing the attention of another passer by who dropped their shopping at the display. He pointed at the woman, crouching over Josh and holding him down. “Call the police!”

Sara tried to scrambled backwards once more, letting out another shriek as Josh tossed the older man off of him and lunged for her again. She reached the door of her car, prepared to lock herself in it. Grabbing for the door handle, she let out a cry as he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her down to the pavement.

“Bitch!” Josh screamed, grabbing a fistful of Sara’s hair and pounding her head against the pavement.

Before Josh could abuse her some more, the older man grabbed him again and threw him back against the truck. “Get off!” he yelled, holding Josh back when he lunged for Sara again. “Okay, I’m warning you,” he pointed at Josh menacingly, his forehead bulging with anger.

“Yeah? Or what old man?!” Josh spat, leering over the shorter man. He had no time to react when the grey haired man pulled back his arm and punched him in the face. Blood poured from Josh’s nose and he gripped at it defensively. “Ow…you’re fucking crazy!” he mumbled, sliding down the truck. He was dizzy and he couldn’t move as the faint whirr of sirens filled the parking lot with the flash of blue lights.

A police car pulled into the parking lot, quickly followed by an ambulance. Before Josh could gain enough motor skills back to get up, two cops were practically on top of him. At the same time, several paramedics were rolling out the stretcher. An EMT felt for Sara's pulse and called for someone to bring the oxygen tank over. As they loaded her on the gurney, they slipped the mask onto her face.

A few minutes later, Lincoln’s Mustang screeched to a halt in the midst of the commotion and Michael jumped out. A small officer with her hair tied back in a bun was questioning a older man with grey hair and there was a crowd of paramedics in yellow reflective jackets huddled around something on the floor. Michael’s heart stopped and the color drained from his face as he broke into a sprint towards the mess of people. “Sara!” he called, his feet pounding against the ground.

An officer stepped forward and placed her hand on Michael's arm, making him slow down. She shook her head, blocking him. "Sir. Sir, you can't go over there."

Michael looked over her shoulder, desperately trying to look around the mass over people kneeling on the floor. One of them moved and he caught a glimpse of red hair and milky white skin. “Sara!” he screamed, panic setting in as he pushed past the officer and rushed towards her.

"Sir!" The officer spoke louder, as she chased after him. "You can't be here. How do you know this woman?"

Sara's eyes tried to open, but the pounding in her head wouldn't allow it. Finally, the opened, an intense pain rushing with them. Letting out a gasp and recalling the events that had just transpired, she began to thrash wildly. Several hands held her down. "Michael!"

“She’s my wife!” Michael yelled at the police officer. “Oh my god, Sara…” Michael said, shocked by her battered and bloodied face as he froze next to her. He felt a lump of tears form in his throat and he collapsed to the floor on his knees. “What happened?” Michael looked to the paramedic, his eyes dark, angry and demanding an answer. “What happened to her!?”

"We don't know for sure yet, sir." The paramedic motioned to an officer. "Could you please go with her and give us some information so we can give your wife the best help possible?"

“No…” Michael shook his head defiantly. “Tell me what happened!” he demanded. He reached out and picked up Sara’s hand, bunching it in between his palms and kissing her grazed knuckles. He gulped and fought back tears. “Who did this?”

Sara swallowed hard, trying to find the strength to formulate words. She glanced around in a daze. "Did they get him? He said he was going to hurt Roman." She struggled, trying to get up. "He said he was going to hurt him!"

“He?” Michael shook his head slowly, frowning at her lightly. “Who is he, Sara?” Michael coxed softly, stroking her hair from her forehead. He didn’t have to wait for her answer because a commotion from behind him caught his attention. He looked over his shoulder and narrowed his gaze in the darkness, squinting to recognise the figure that was wrestling against two police officers. His eyes went wide and he dropped Sara’s hand, pushing himself to his feet slowly and stalking towards Josh with a sideways glance. “You…” he growled. “…You bastard!”

An officer stepped in. "Sir, I need you to answer some questions for us. We're taking care of this."

Sara spoke up softly. "Michael, do what they ask."

Michael didn’t even hear Sara or the officer as he stormed towards Josh. He flew at his body, crushing him against the side of the patrol car and letting him crumple to the floor with a winching pain. “You…” he roared, gripping at his shirt and dragging him back up against the side of the car. “Fucking…. Michael balled his fist and with a quick motion, pummelled it into the side of Josh’s ribcage, making him double over, unable to defend himself because of his cuffed wrists behind his back. “…bastard!”

“Oh my god…” the petite officer said panicked. She looked to her two colleague and they charged towards Michael. One had his hand planted firmly to his gun on his hip and the other held his hat to his head while his cuffs jingled on his hip. “Sir! Let him go!”

Michael’s jaw clenched so tightly as he grabbed at Josh’s neck. He tried to choke him. He wanted to choke him. He wanted to squeeze the life out of him and make him pay for hurting Sara and threatening his son. Josh’s eyes fluttered closed and he gasped for breath, struggling furiously against Michael’s iron grip. One of the officers grappled with Michael’s arm but he had a new found strength and the officer was rendered helpless against his rage.

“Sir!” the officers bellowed, tugging on his arm as Josh began to fade into unconsciousness. “Sir, if you don’t let him go now, we will arrest you for assault,” the officer said, trying to reason with Michael’s better nature.

Michael’s lips twisted and he almost growled low in his throat when Josh went limp in his hands. He snapped his head towards the officer on his arm and pushed him away roughly. “What the hell kind of justice is that!?” he spat.

Another officer stepped in, grabbing Michael roughly by the arms and pushing him against the cop car. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

He continued talking as he led Michael to a cop car and pushed him into the back seat.

The officer slammed the door behind Michael and he pressed his face right up to the window. “This is bullshit!” he screamed, his breath condensing against the cool pane of the car window. “Let me see my wife!”

"Sir!" the officer snapped, leaning into the back seat. "Things will go much, much smoother if you just be quiet and let us take you in."

Michael slumped against the seat and sighed heavily. His anger still raged through his body and he slammed his head into the back seat, gritting his teeth. “Just…” he bit off his words. “…Please make sure she is okay,” he said slowly.

  
Sara let out a groan as her eyes fluttered open. She felt like someone was sitting on her chest. Clearing her throat, she glanced around the room to find Lincoln sitting next to her bed, his head in his hands. Remembering what Josh had said, she felt a panic rise in her. "Roman!! Where's Roman?!"

“Sara…” Lincoln jumped to his feet and leaned over her on the bed. “Shhh…it’s okay. Roman is safe. You’re safe,” he soothed, brushing her hair from her brow and letting his hand rest on the pillow above her head.

Sara flinched at his touch and moved away slightly, trying to sit up. Tears sprang into her eyes. "Michael. Where's Michael?"

Lincoln sighed and shook his head. “That dumb ass got himself arrested,” he said angrily. “I’m sorry, Sara,” Lincoln said sadly, moving to sit back beside her. “I tried, but they won’t let him out until the morning.”

Sara collapsed back onto the pillow, tears filling her eyes. "So I won't see him tonight."

“I’m so sorry,” Lincoln said, reaching out for her hand softly. “If it’s any consolation…” he began with a slight smile. “…You got me,” he shrugged, making a joke of the situation because of how scared he really was. It was his way.

Sara cleared her throat and glanced away from Lincoln. She tried to sit up, but let out a hissing noise. "He uh. . . he didn't um. . .do.. . anything to me. You can tell Michael that."

Lincoln’s entire body flushed with relief. He had been afraid to ask, or maybe he didn’t see it as his place to ask. He nodded slowly, unable to find any words to say to her. “Except…” he pointed to her face and brushed his knuckles across the red raw skin. “Oh Sara…” Lincoln said, his voice full of apologies and sorrow. “…One of us should have been with you.”

"No. Don't do that. This is not your fault!" Sara's sobs finally broke out and she laid her head in her hands. She shook violently. "God, Linc. I thought I'd never see them again."

“Hey…” Lincoln soothed gently, standing and perching on the edge of the bed. He wanted to reach out and hug her. He wanted to tell her it was okay and it wasn’t her fault; that no one would have hated her for protecting the ones she loved. Instead, no words came and he just watched her cry.

Sara kept her head in her hands, trying to control her sobbing. She was almost glad Michael wasn't there to see her like this, or to listen to her cry and that made her feel even worse. "Linc. I. . . I was going. . ." She choked on a sob. "I was going to let him. . ."

“Okay, Sara, no,” Lincoln said firmly, finally reaching out to her and resting his warmed hand to her blanket clad knee. “You don’t get to hate yourself for this, you hear me?” he said, gently gripping her knee to rouse her and make her look at him. “This was not you’re fault. And even if…” his words trailed off and he looked away from her for a second. “…no one would have done any different for their kid, you hear?”

"God, Linc. This is all my fault." Sara wiped hastily at her tears and shook her head hard. "It's because of my past of what I did!" She bit her bottom lip hard, determined not to cry again. "God, Linc. What if Roman had been with me? What if he had hurt him because of me?"

“He wasn’t. And he didn’t,” Lincoln added resolutely. “Stop thinking like that, or ‘what if’ will drive you insane” he scolded her softly. “No one is getting punished for anything in their past, okay?”

"Michael's sitting in jail right now." Sara spat the words out as she began to cry again. "He's getting punished for my past."

“Michael is getting punished for assault, Sara. And abusive language to an officer of the law,” Lincoln shook his head at the ridiculousness of Michael’s charges. “His actions had nothing to do with you. You didn’t make him do anything,” he said softly, taking one of her hands in his and gripping it tightly. “If it makes you feel any better, he’s probably not sitting. He’s probably pacing,” Lincoln’s laughed lightly, not even finding his own energy to laugh.

"I feel. . . " Sara trailed off and pressed her fingers to her eyes. "I feel --" She felt dirty. All she could think about was how he had touched her, where he had touched her, what he had touched her with. For a moment she felt like she was going to throw up, and she had to force it down. Shaking her head she whispered, "God. You don't want to listen to this."

“Hey, if you want to talk, I want to listen,” Lincoln said with a small smile. “It’s got to be easier telling this to the brother you’re not having sex with right?” he shrugged. “So come on…whatever you need to say…I’m here,” he said brushing his thumb over her knuckles.

'He. . " Sara shifted away from Lincoln and folded her hands in her lap. "He. . ." She tried again. Keeping her gaze down, she cleared her throat and spoke in a low voice. "He. . . touched me."

Lincoln felt his jaw tighten and he looked to a blank spot on the floor that his foot was casting a shadow onto. He loved Sara like a sister and he hated to see her so broken. Lincoln looked back to her with apologies in his eyes but she did not meet his gaze. “I’m sorry…”

"I just. . ." She shook her head, glancing up to him. The fear on her face was replaced by anger. "You know what. It's no big deal. It doesn't matter." She glanced away again. "It doesn't even matter."

“Oh no,” Lincoln shook his head and shuffled up the bed closer to her body. “Don’t you shut yourself off, Sara. Don’t you dare,” he said gruffly. “It will break you and that will affect Michael and Roman. Things feel a lot better out in the open. Trust me,” he scoffed, lifting his hand to scratch the back of his neck.

Sara sniffled a few times keeping her jaw locked. After a second it began to quiver and before she knew it, she was leaning into Lincoln, sobbing into his shirt. "Why. . . why did he even marry someone like me?"

“Are you kidding?” Lincoln laughed gently, hugging her to him awkwardly. “Sara, Michael doesn’t see you for who you were. He sees you for who you are now,” he pulled back so she was looking at him. He cupped her face in his hands and grazed his thumbs over her cheeks, erasing her tears. “He sees this beautiful woman who has given him everything he has ever wanted. Who he can’t stop thinking about every second of the day and who gave him the most wonderful baby in the whole world,” he softened his voice and dipped his head to catch her gaze. “That’s why he married you. He loves you.”

Sara cleared her throat and kept her gaze trained on the wall in front of her. After several seconds she spoke. "Do you ever think we would have been better off together?"

“What?” Lincoln said suddenly, taken back. “No…” he shook his head. “…I mean…I wouldn’t have said no,” he shrugged, trying to make her feel better. “But no. I know exactly why you are thinking that, Sara. And don’t. We are different people now. We are who we are today because of Michael,” Lincoln said proudly. “And he deserves happiness. You make him happy, Sara.”

Sara bit the inside of her lip and nodded. "Sometimes I think that. . . I don't know, Linc. I know Michael just. . . he isn't going to get this. He's going to find some way to twist it and blame himself and he doesn't get that him doing that is the last thing I need." She shook her head again. "Sometimes I think I should have just moved on to you."

“You think I am sitting here not blaming myself?” Lincoln said sadly. He averted his eyes, avoiding his gaze as he spoke. “Just because I am better at hiding it than Michael, doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty sometimes. We were cut from the same cloth remember, “ he arched an eyebrow at her. “And if we were married…in some alternative universe…I know, with all my heart, I would be blaming myself too,” Lincoln told her with a soft smile. “It’s what we do for the people we love.”

Sara sighed and fluttered her eyes shut, pressing her hand against her forehead. After several minutes of silent thinking, she shook her head and glanced back at him. "No one should blame themselves." She glanced around the room. "Where's ah. . . do you know where my purse is? I need to give you the chequebook so you can bail Michael out in the morning."

“Sara…” Lincoln said softly, catching her attention. “I’ve got it covered. Don’t worry,” he shook his head slowly. “You just rest, okay. They are letting you home tomorrow,” he said with a smile.

Sara gave him a look, "Lincoln, I'm not letting you pay to let Michael out of jail. How much is it going to be even? It's our own fault, we're paying for it. Do you know how early it will be? Is he going to be the one taking me home. Where's my car?" She cleared her throat. "I know you don't think you're staying here tonight."

“No, you’re right,” Lincoln said, standing off the bed and smoothing the creases out of his jeans. “Roman needs someone to look after him tonight,” he said, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and slipping it around his shoulders. “Stop worrying, and rest. Or that cute little nurse who wants my body will make you stay in here even longer,” he quirked his eyebrow. “Got it, doc?” he grinned.

Sara rolled her eyes, leaning back against the pillow. "Give him a kiss for me, okay? Tell him I love him."

Lincoln nodded and leant over the bed again before her left. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Sara’s hair, ignoring the fact that she smelt faintly of heated tarmac and congealed blood. “Will do,” Lincoln said softly, squeezing her hand in his one last time. “I’ll be back with your sorry ass husband in the morning to get you, okay?” he smiled, pulling the door open and stepping into the doorway. “Rest,” he said one final time, waving his hand idly at her as he disappeared.


	43. Chapter 43

Sara walked out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of fresh clothes she had found in the seat next to her when she woke up. Her guess was Lincoln had dropped them off on his way to go get Michael and she was beyond thankful he had been sensitive enough to understand that she wouldn't want to put on last night's clothes. She glanced in the mirror and made a face, wishing she had a ponytail holder to pull her messy hair into her. Shaking her head, she walked over to check the paperwork again and make sure she'd taken care of everything. Her slumber the night before had been horrific, littered with things she didn't dare imagine, and she'd gotten less than two hours. Sighing, she collapsed down in the chair and fluttered her eyes closed. She wanted to go home.

Michael had spent the entire night in a police cell with two other men. One was drunk and disorderly while the other had been arrested for vandalising his girlfriend’s car while she slept. As soon as Michael has walked into the cell, blood still boiling and his anger evident from his clenched jaw and snorting breath, the two men had resigned themselves to one side of the cell and left Michael alone in the other. For their own peace and quiet, and his safety, the police had decided it would be best if Josh was taken to another precinct away from Michael. Almost twelve hours and too long later, Michael was paused outside of Sara’s hospital room in the same dishevelled clothes he was wearing last night and a thick layer of facial hair.

Sara was beginning to hate the fact that she was waiting. She couldn't stand being alone, all it did was let the silence eat at her mind. She tried to listen to Linc's advice and not dwell on what could have or might have happened. She was okay. Nothing too horrific had occurred. Sighing, she leaned forward, laying her head in her hands.

“Just go in,” Lincoln said from behind Michael, shaking him back into reality. Michael turned and looked at his brother who was trying to arrange Roman in his arms so he wasn’t so squirmy. “She wants to see you, Mike,” he said firmly, nodding towards the door.

“Okay,” Michael said slowly, turning back towards the door. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard, watching his hand as he pressed down the handle. “Okay…” he whispered to himself again, pushing open the door and stepping inside.

The door opened and Sara glanced up quickly. Michael stood there, looking every bit as bad as she felt. He apparently hadn't slept at all the previous night either. Not that she was surprised. She hadn't wanted to cry when he came, she had promised herself she'd do everything she could not too, but as soon she met his eyes, the familiar lump formed in her throat. Glancing away, she managed a strangled, "Hey."

Michael tilted his head sympathetically and he let the door fall closed behind him. “Hey,” he choked out on his own constricted throat, moving slowly towards her. He considered asking her if she was okay but then thought better of the generic conversation topics and rested himself in silence next to her, squatted close to the floor. He dipped his head and tried to catch her gaze, resting his hands to the arms of the chair on either side of her, almost scared to reach out and touch her broken figure. “Sara…” he began his apology but her sobs overtook his words when he uttered her name.

"Don't. . ." Sara forced out a whisper, quickly shaking her head. She wiped at her eyes, but the tears just wouldn't stop. "Don't. . . don't say you're sorry, okay. Please?" She tried to force out more words, but they wouldn't come. Trying to swallow a sob, she put her head in her hands again.

Michael felt his own tear-filled burning in his throat and he licked at his lips nervously, tapping the arms of the chair and looking at his feet. “But…If I had gone with you…” he said slowly and sadly, lifting his head to look at her again. “…If I had…” he reached his hand up and brushed his knuckles across the purple bruise that had formed on her cheek bone. His hand shifted position and he gently trailed his thumb over the dried, bloody split on her lip. “Oh Sara…” he breathed. “…I swear to god, I’ll kill him.”

"I said don't," Sara repeated firmly, pulling away from his touch. She shifted off the chair, pushing him, and reached for her paperwork with shaking hands. She knew how protective Michael was of her, and it scared her to death. When he said he would kill him, she knew very well that given the opportunity, he would. She glanced to the ground. "Are you okay?"

Michael rubbed his hands over his stubble and sighed. “I had considered asking you the same thing…” he whispered, pushing himself to his feet with a grunt. His muscles ached from no sleep and his veins were still laced with rage that resurfaced every time he blinked and imagined the man who had torn Sara’s heart apart last night.

"I guess someone found my purse," Sara murmured, ignoring Michael's comment. She should have known asking if he was okay was a dumb question. She began to rifle through it. Her wallet was there, her car keys, some receipts, some lipgloss. She tilted her head to the side and glanced towards him, "My phone isn't here. I. . . I guess I lost it." Her hands began to shake and she put them behind her back trying to hide them from Michael. "I um, I dropped it. I'm sorry."

“Why are you sorry?” Michael frowned at her, a tiny part of his heart falling away as it beat in his chest when his worst fear was realised. Sara was blaming herself. “Don’t be sorry, Sara,” Michael said firmly, taking a sidestep so he was facing her but was not any closer. He could sense her reluctance to be near him so he respected her wishes and kept his distance. “I’ll get you a new cell phone.”

Sara ignored him and glanced down again, pushing her purse up over her shoulder. She gathered all the paperwork in her hands and cleared her throat. "I want to go home." She finally glanced at him. "Is Linc here or is it just us?"

Michael looked behind himself and motioned towards the door. “He’s outside with Ro,” he said softly, not looking back to her. “Sara…” he said in a low voice as he turned back to her. He waited until she finally looked up at him and met his gaze. “…We’ll put this behind us. I promise.”

"Yeah." Sara attempted a smile and leaned in, brushing her lips gently over Michael's cheek. She didn't linger for too long. She was afraid if she actually let him pull her into his embrace, she'd start crying and not be able to stop. Handing him the paper work, she stepped out into the hallway. Roman greeted her with a loud squeal. Reaching out for her, he chanted, "Momomomom!"

A bright smile broke out on Sara's face before she could stop it and she pulled him towards her, holding him close to her. "Look at you! I think you got bigger since I saw you yesterday. How is that even possible?"

Roman's response was a giggle and slew of baby talk. Sara brushed her lips across his forehead, closing her eyes and letting them linger. "I love you so, so much, baby. Mommy loves you."

Michael followed her from the room, pulling it closed behind him and giving Lincoln a sorrowful look. He shook his head slowly and looked down at the paperwork in his hands, wishing everything was as simple as filling out a form.

Sara brushed her lips across Roman's cheek then looked up at Lincoln. "Would you mind taking him home with you? Just for a little while? I want to shower and just sit for a little while with it being quiet." She glanced over to Michael. "I'll pick him up later." She smiled again as Roman tugged on her hair, pulling her face down so he could plant a wet kiss on her cheek.

“Sure,” Lincoln agreed with a slight frown. “You want me to have him all night?” he looked between Michael and Sara s he lifted the thirteen-month-old from his mother’s arms and planted him firmly on his hip. “I don’t mind,” Lincoln said sweetly.

"Um. . ." Sara sighed then glanced back to Michael again. "Maybe. I don't know. We'll see how things go?" She looked back at Michael once more, placing her hand on his arm. "Let's go home?"

“Let’s go home,” Michael said with a weak smile. He let her touch him but he didn’t reach out for her hand in case she shunned him away. His heart couldn’t take that. Once they were in the parking lot, Michael gave Lincoln the keys to their truck because it had Roman’s car seat and baby things already it in. Lincoln exchanged his keys for Michael’s and told them to take his Mustang home for the night. And to be careful, which made Sara smile a little. The drive home was somewhat intense, with very little conversation between them. Michael looked over to Sara with a sideways glance. “Are you okay?” he finally said.

"That depends on what you mean by okay." Sara kept her gaze out the window, watching all the houses as the went by. She was exhausted but she didn't feel like sleeping. "He didn't rape me, if that's what you're asking."

Michael’s hand tightened around the steering wheel of the old restored classic and he blinked a few times, trying to erase the thought from his mind. Michael didn’t know what to say. He was relieved beyond comprehension but he was still furious another man had even attempted to violate his wife. He prayed, for everyone’s sake, that he never laid eyes on Josh again.

She bit her lip, debating whether or not to continue on. Maybe it would be easier to have the conversation when he couldn't keep his eyes on the her for a long period of time, or he couldn't reach out to her. "He said that if I didn't let him, he was going to hurt Roman." She cleared her throat. "I was going to let him." Refusing to look over him, she dropped her voice to a whisper. "Would you have looked at me differently?"

“No,” Michael said quickly, turning his head to fully look at her before he had to return his gaze to the road. His voice was loud and firm. He wanted her to know he loved her no matter what. “No, Sara…” he added on a whisper. “I know you would do anything, however…vile…to protect our son,” he said, biting off his words that he couldn’t believe he was saying. “I would too. And I wouldn’t have loved you any less.”

Sara nodded slowly. She wished she believed him, but she hadn't even been raped and she already felt like she didn't want to be touched. Laying her head back on the seat she whispered, "I just want to get home."

Michael just nodded and shuffled in his seat, straightening his painful back against the luxurious leather of the seat. He wanted to reach out and touch her. He wanted to touch her and show her how much he still loved her but he didn’t. Instead he gave her a choice. He let one of his hands slid from the wheel, coming to rest palm up against the edge of his seat, inviting her to take his hand if she wanted. He didn’t look at her, or down at his hand, he just drove and waited in silence.

Sara hesitated for a moment. Letting out a soft sigh, she reached down and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. After a moment she brought his hand up and brushed her lips across his knuckles, closing her eyes. "I love you so much. I wish you hadn't. . . done what you did last night, Michael. You can't let this eat at you." It was so much easier to say the words to him than to believe them herself.

“I did what I did because I love you,” Michael said, turning into their street with one hand. He didn’t want to let her hand go. Not now, not ever. Anger was still evident in his voice, even though he tried to lace it and disguise it with worry. “I’d die for you, Sara,” Michael whispered. “And I wouldn’t hesitate to do so.”

"And I'd do the same for you and Roman," Sara told him firmly. She watched as he clenched his jaw. "And it's not exactly that comforting of a thought, is it?" She leaned away, sighing softly. "I'm okay, Michael. He didn't. . . he didn't hurt me beyond repair. I'm okay."

“The fact that you keep saying it leads me to believe you don’t even believe it,” Michael said, looking at her gently as he pulled to a stop in their driveway. “You don’t feel okay, do you?” he said quietly, squeezing her hand and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “Sara, please…just talk to me,” he pleaded, turning to face her in his seat.

"You don't want to hear about it." Sara shook her head, moving to open her door and get out. "I don't want you to hear about it. You're just going to get more angry, okay? Anger isn't what I need from you, okay?" She shook her head, finally pushing open her door and getting out. "It's what I get for being who I used to be anyway."

Michael mirrored her action and pushed his door open, stepping out and pulling himself up with the top of the door. “How can you even say that?” Michael asked, shocked and a little hurt as he slammed his car door closed. “How could you even think that? This didn’t happen because of who you were, or who you are…” Michael said over the top of the car. “…This happened because…because…” he choked on his words, looking away from her.

"Yes, it did!" Sara exclaimed. She slammed her car door shut and moved towards the front door, digging around for her house keys. "He'd raped me before and he came back to do it again. It's all on me, Michael. You can't twist this one to blame yourself."

“Sara…” Michael called, quickly locking Lincoln’s car and bounding up the driveway behind her. Just as he reached her she pushed the front door open and stormed inside. He followed her and slammed the door closed behind them. “Don’t do this!” he roared, pointing at her as she stalked away from him. Rape. It was just the word, but it opened up the floodgates inside of Michael and his anger flowed through into his words. “Don’t blame yourself for this!”

"What, Michael?" Sara whirled around to face him, tossing both her keys and her purse to the side. She crossed her arms, practically spitting out the words. "What do you want to know?" She wasn't angry at him, she was angry at anyone but him, but she didn't know where else to get rid of all the hate she was feeling. "You want to hear about it? You want to hear about how he touched me, where he touched me, what he touched me with?" Her voice grew with each word. "What he said he wanted to do to me?"

“Yes!” Michael screamed at her, exacerbated. “I want to know everything so I can help!”

"Help how, Michael? How can you help?" Her voice cracked and she finally began to cry again. Clearing her throat a little, she stepped forward, lowering her voice. "First, he pushed me to the ground and pushed up my skirt. How convenient I happened to be wearing a skirt, right? And then he. . . he touched me. And then? Then he took my panties off, and he told me if I tried to scream, he'd kill Roman. Then he took his pants off and pushed me against the car and told me to spread my legs." She met Michael's eyes. "And then he took his cock his hand and he. . . he. . ." She couldn't do it, she couldn't go on anymore. Ducking her head, she brought her hand up, flattening it against her eyes.

Michael pushed every bit of anger he felt aside, reached out as he closed the gap between them and pulled her into a hug. He didn’t say a word, or let her go as she struggled to push him away from her weakly, letting her tears roll down her cheeks as she shouted abuse at him that he knew she could never mean. He clenched his eyes closed and felt the hot wetness of a tear trickle down his cheek.

Sara tried her best to push him away. She didn't want it, she didn't deserve to be held, to be told things were all okay. "Why weren't you there?" The words slipped from her mouth before she could stop them. She didn't blame him, she didn't even consider blaming him. She finally gave up the fight, going weak against him. She slipped her arms around him, holding onto him as tight as she could. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I don't know how you even want to touch me."

“Shhh…” Michael whispered against her hair, stroking his hand up and down her back. “Don’t cry…” he said, pleading her with a croaky voice. “I love you. I love you and it’s over. I’m here,” he said softly, letting his hand cradle the back of her head as he held her to him. “Don’t be sorry, Sara. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

"I love you so much," Sara whispered out between sobs. She clutched onto him tighter, running her hands up his back and holding onto his shirt. "All I could think about was you and Roman and. . ." She cleared her throat and shook her head, a fresh batch of tears welling in her throat. "I will never forgive myself for putting our family in this situation, Michael."

“Sara, you did nothing wrong,” Michael soothed, letting out a sigh. “You really think he would have got to Roman? Past me and Lincoln?” he said light-heartedly, letting his chest heave with a small laugh. “Not in a million years,” he growled firmly. “But I'm truly, so, so sorry for not getting there quicker,” he whispered. “Then again…maybe it’s a good thing the police got there before me…”

"I know you'd never let anything happen to Roman," Sara let out a quiet sigh, pulling away enough so she could look at him. She sighed again and leaned her forehead against his, fluttering her eyes shut. "God, Michael. Sometimes I'm scared by how much you love me. How far I know you'd go for me."

“I scare you?” Michael said softly, frowning but not opening his eyes. He lifted his hands and traced her jaw line, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and holding her face her his hands. “I’m sorry…” he repeated his words sincerely. “…I just…we’ve been through too much. I would protect you and Roman at any cost…”

Sara brushed her nose against his and shook her head. "But I can't have something happen to you either, okay?" She stepped away a little bit. "How much was your bail? What do we owe Linc? Do you have to go to court?"

“Linc said it doesn’t matter,” Michael began. “But on the basis of me being already labelled with ‘ex-con’, I’d imagine it wasn’t cheap. And no. That…monster was already wanted for similar attacks so they said, under the circumstances, they didn’t think he’d file charges,” Michael smiled weakly. “If he does, we’ll deal with it.”

"Thank you," Sara whispered, brushing her knuckles over his cheek. "I mean, not exactly for you know, attempting to beat the shit out of him. But you know. . . for loving me so much. For having so much faith in us."

“Attempting?” Michael arched his eyebrow. “Sara, the guy passed out I gripped his throat so tightly…” Michael looked down at her, ashamed of his actions. However ashamed he felt of hurting another human being, he would do it all again for Sara. “…I’d never lose faith in us. In you,” he breathed, looking back up to meet her stare. “I love you.”

"I love you more than anything," Sara whispered, nodding slowly. "I always will." Slowly, she pulled out of his embrace, glancing towards the stairs. "I feel like I need a shower."

“Me too,” Michael said, looking down at himself and scratching his stubble. “This isn’t very comfortable,” he groaned, pulling a face as he itched at the new growth. “You take one first,” he offered. “I’ll come up and shave and just take a quick wash for now.”

"Or. . ." Sara reached out for his hand, squeezing it gently. She looked up until her eyes met his. "We could just shower together."

Michael gave her a sweet smile and returned her gesture, squeezing her hand tighter. “I’d like that,” he breathed, giving her a soft nod and following her up the stairs. Michael reached behind his head and pulled his shirt back over it as he walked up the stairs. He flipped it to rest on one of his shoulders while he unbuttoned his pants with fumbling, weakened fingers. He hadn’t slept and he hadn’t eaten and it probably showed just how much he just wanted to wash and sleep for the rest of the day.

Sara grabbed a couple towels out of the linen closet and moved back towards their bathroom. She sighed and slid her shirt slowly over her head. When she turned to start running the shower, she found him standing in his boxers, looking at her. She gave him a small smile as she unbuttoned her jeans. "I'm a mess."

“We both are,” Michael said, unable to stop a yawn from escaping his mouth. He closed the gap between them and run his hand through her hair again, tilting her chin up toward his eyes with a crooked knuckle and smiling at her. “I want to kiss you…” he said, unsure if he should be telling her or asking permission. “…I want to make it all better,” he said softly.

Sara's smile softened and she nodded once, tilting her head up towards him and run her tongue along her bottom lip. "So, kiss me then, Scofield."

Michael smiled softly, lowering his head to meet hers as he kissed her. He lifted his hands back to her face, cupping her cheeks in his warm palms and holding her face to his while he kissed away her fears. It was tender, unrushed and it was everything he had ever wanted to say but couldn’t in one simple action. He gently moved his hand to brush her hair from her face, pushing it to join the rest of her auburn locks as he deepened the kiss for a few seconds, stepping backwards towards the shower and pulling her with him. “Thank you,” he whispered, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead to hers.

"Thank me?" Sara arched an eyebrow. She pushed him back slightly, moving him towards the shower. "Thanks for kissing you?" She dropped her head, placing a kiss to his chest. "Thank you for kissing me."

“Thank you for everything,” he said, stepping back into the shower and pulling her with him. He turned the shower on and a hiss was followed by a gush of water droplets, pounding at his skin as they left the showerhead. “Just…thank you,” he smiled sweetly, stepping further under the heated spray and letting her join him.

Sara pressed up against him as the water fall on them. A quiet noise escaped her and her head fell forward, resting on his chest. "Mmm. This feels good."

“Let me make it better…” Michael whispered softly, turning her around and reaching for her body wash. “I’ll stop if you want me to, okay?” Michael whispered into her ear, her damp hair sticking to the side of his face. He flipped open the aloe shower gel and poured some into his hand. He let it run under the water for a second before wrapping his arms around her, pressing them to her stomach and gently massaging her skin into a white, frothy lather. Michael rested his chin to her shoulder, watching his hands move as they smoothed over her slippery body, up over her breasts and across her shoulders and back down to her hips.

Sara turned her head, pressing a kiss to his temple. When his hands moved to her hips, she stiffened for a moment, but then relaxed back into him. Her eyes fluttered shut and she sighed. "I love how your hands feel."

Michael felt her tense against his body and stilled his hands against her skin until she relaxed. “I’m sorry…” he breathed, pressing his lips to her damp shoulder. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he soothed, returning his hands to her torso, rubbing the lather over her ribcage and around her stomach again. He stood up behind her, dragging his soapy hands over her shoulders and down her back between her shoulder blades, tracing circles in the foam. The water pounded against the back of his neck and ran down his abdomen, warming his skin and opening his knotted muscles. The steam filled the cubicle and the familiar scent of Sara’s shower gel filled his nostrils as he leant forward and pressed another kiss to the top of her spine.

"Don't say you're sorry. . ." Sara shook her head slowly as he massaged his hands over her. "I like you touching me." She bit her lip and lowered her voice. "I like to see that you still like touching me."

Michael kissed her back again. “I love touching you,” he breathed against her skin. “I could touch you all day,” he said in a low voice before he moved sideways and let the water invade her skin, washing away the grubby bubbles that circled and pooled at the plug hole. “I really love you,” he said, looking up at the top of her head as the water pelted down on her hair and darkened her vibrant red curls. He run his hand over her head, following the flow of water that wet his hand. Silently he reached for the bottle of shampoo on the shelf and squeezed a dollop onto Sara’s head, snapping the bottle shut before he began to massage her scalp with his long, nimble fingers.

Sara's head lulled back as his talented fingers began to massage her scalp. Her breathing became a little more shallow, and a soft moan escaped her. She bit her lip, keeping her eyes closed, but reaching out for him. "You're so good to me."

“I know,” he smiled, watching her relax under his touch. “You’re good to me too,” he reminded her as he worked the shampoo into a lather. He pulled her hair sideways and rubbed it between his hands, washing the ends of her lengthened auburn hair away from the spray of the water. “We are good to each other. And for each other,” he reminded her, stepping in front of her and gently tilting her head backwards until the hot water tumbled into the soapy mess and began to rinse it out.

Sara let out another quiet moan as the warm water rinsed her hair. She wiped her eyes, blinking several times and reached for him again, running her hand down his side. "You will never know how much I love you."

 


	44. Chapter 44

Sara woke up and rolled over, finding the bed space next to her empty. She groaned and sat up a little, pressing a hand to her pounding head. She blinked several times, trying to will it away, but it was to no avail. Collapsing back down onto the pillow, she sniffled and swallowed hard, practically choking on a sore throat. Turning her head into the pillow, she let out a quiet whimper. "Shit."

The downstairs of the house was silent as Michael made himself a coffee in the kitchen. He had been up for most of the night just watching Sara sleep beside him until he had finally arisen at five am. Roman was still at Lincoln’s and was lucky enough to be going to the zoo with his uncle later then day to give his mommy time to rest. Michael’s head whipped up to the ceiling as he stirred his hot beverage, hearing Sara cough. Michael lifted the spoon from the drink, shaking off the excess liquid and laying it down beside his mug before picking it up and heading upstairs.

Sara tossed and turned for another moment before she finally had to sit up. Reaching for the box of tissues they kept to the side of the bed, she grabbed one of blew her nose. Letting out another moan, she collapsed back down onto the pillow, coughing and pressing her hand to her face, trying to block the sunshine.

Michael padded barefoot along the hall to their bedroom and opened the door with a creak. He peered in, with his mug held high to his chest and offered her a smile. “And how do we feel today?” he asked cheerily, moving towards the huge window in their bedroom and pulling the drapes closed to block out the sunlight that irritated her face.

At first, Sara's only response was a groan as she turned to lay on her stomach. She grabbed the comforter and pulled it over her head, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. Why couldn't she catch a break? She coughed loudly, then sniffled. "Like hell."

“Awww…” Michael soothed, moving back around the bed. He placed his coffee mug down on the bed side table and crouched down beside her. “Can I get you anything?” he offered, gently resting his hand to the comforter covering her body and trying to peer under the top. All he could see was the wispy remnants of her unkempt hair and he could hear her groaning in the darkness.

Sara shook her head, then realized he couldn't see her. "No. . ." She mumbled, then pushed the comforter down so she could see him. "Maybe a new head."

Michael chuckled and smoothed his hand over her head, flattening her hair. “I think I’m all out of those,” he smiled sweetly, patting at his pockets. “Yup, all gone,” he said. “I can get you something to drink…some water and pain killers for your headache?”

"Ugh. . ." Sara felt her stomach churn and she shook her head, turning away from him. "No. God, even the thought of swallowing anything. . ."

Michael sighed a little, licking his lips as he thought. “You need to drink something, Sara,” he said gently, pushing himself to his feet and perching on the edge of the bed. “It will help,” he offered softly, placing one hand on the other side of her body and leaning across her. “I’ll worry otherwise.”

Sara pressed her head into the pillow and shook it again defiantly. All she wanted was to go back to sleep. "Do you want me to throw up?"

Michael sighed and looked down at her pale shell. “No, baby, I don’t,” he whispered, looking over to his coffee as it steamed beside the bed. “You want me to do anything for you?”

Sara shrugged, trying to sit up a little. She swallowed hard. "I actually do need something to drink. Not. . ." she made a face and shook her head. "Not water. And have you talked to Linc? How's Roman?"

Michael reached for his coffee and lifted it to his lips, taking a long gulp. “Yeah, I called him this morning,” Michael said, licking the last drops of coffee from his lips. “Roman’s fine. Linc is taking him to the zoo later, in case you wanted to rest some more,” he said looking into his mug as he cradled it.

Sara wrinkled her nose. "Umm. . . Michael? Can you maybe. . ." She cleared her throat. "Can you maybe take the coffee downstairs? And brush your teeth?"

Michael frowned at her and moved the coffee away from her. He lifted his hand to his mouth and breathed into his palm, inhaling the hot breathe immediately afterwards. “I’ve brushed my teeth today…” he said with a shrug.

Sara turned away further and shook her head. "I don't care. . ." Did he seriously want to argue with her? "Now you smell like coffee."

“Okay…” Michael said softly, shifting off of the bed. “I’ll go fix it,” he shrugged, heading out of the room. He moved straight to the bathroom and poured his coffee down the sink, letting the mug rest on the edge of the tub while he brushed his teeth. He rinsed his mouth and wiped his chin on a hand towel, checking in the mirror to make sure he hadn’t got any toothpaste on his face. He moved back to the bedroom and sat down next to her huddled body again. “Better?”

"Much. . ." Sara shifted closer to him and laid her head in his lap. She sighed softly and fluttered her eyes closed. After a minute she spoke, "I think I might want a bath."

“Uh…” Michael said slowly, looking toward the door and remembering he had left the coffee mug in the bathroom. He tilted his head at her and smoothed his knuckled over her pale cheeks. “I don’t want you falling asleep in there…”

Sara turned her head up to him, smiling softly. She brushed her lips over his knuckle, then coughed, offering him an apologetic smile. "I won't drown."

“Wow, man voice is sexy on you,” he teased, brushing her hair from her face. “How hot does my baby want this bath?” he cooed, smiling at her adorably.

Sara couldn't help but smile back at him as he looked down at her. "You like the man voice, hmm? I knew prison had its side effects on you." She giggled softly, fluttering her eyes closed. "A warm bath."

Michael narrowed his eyes at her. “There was only one effect prison had on me…” he whispered, tickling the skin behind her ear with a soft fingertip until her eyes opened. “…or one person in prison…”

Sara smiled up at him and sighed softly. "Yeah, I know. Sucre. I've come to accept the fact you're in love with him. It was hard at first, but we all adjust." She motioned towards the bathroom. "Bath."

Michael let out a hearty laugh and pushed himself to his feet, shaking his head with a smirk. “You…” he said, pointing to her as he disappeared out of the doorway. “…are not funny, Scofield!” he called back down the hall. He reached the bathroom and turned both the hot and cold taps on, swishing his hands through the warming, clear water until he was satisfied it was enough. He grabbed the mug he had left there as he left and carried it back to the bedroom, putting it down on top of his dresser before walking to the bed and dragging the covers from her body. “Okay, sick girl, you’re bath awaits,” he said, scooping her into his arms and holding her against his body.

"Mmm, you're carrying me?" Sara murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck. She coughed, then sniffed, then rested her head against his chest. "Maybe I should get sick more often." He set her down in the bathroom and she glanced up at him. "Have you talked to Sucre lately?"

“Hmm? Sucre? No,” Michael said simply, folding his arms and leaning against the wall while she undressed slowly and on shaky legs. “I was going to call him and see if he wanted to come visit. You know. It’s Linc’s birthday soon and I was going to suggest a BBQ, and I’m sure Maricruz would come too. With their little boy…what’s his name again?” Michael pinched his eyes shut and tried to remember.

Sara rolled her eyes and she dropped her clothes to the floor. Stepping into the bath, she sighed. "Why do you always pretend you forget Sucre's son's name? And does he have the money to come?"

Michael laughed a little and pushed himself off the wall to walk towards her. “I just think it’s a little strange someone naming their child after me,” he shrugged. “It feels…I don’t know,” he shook his head, sitting on the edge of the tub and looking down at her in the water. “I can only call and ask, but I’d assume he had at least the means to get here.”

"It only makes sense he named him after you," Sara murmured softly, fluttering her eyes shut. "I mean, you're the one who got him back to Maricruz." She sighed softly. "Plus, we named our baby after a country."

“Actually we named him after an ancient, powerful civilization that just happened to live in Italy,” he shrugged at her with a cheeky smile. “Not that I’m arguing with my poor, sick baby,” he cooed sarcastically, slipping off the edge of the tub to the floor and resting his chin to the white porcelain as he looked at her with a loving gaze. “Because I love you. Sick or not, I love you.”

Sara nodded her head, bobbing down in the water and holding her breath for a moment. When she came back up, she blinked several times. "The doctor yesterday says she thinks I should go to group counseling."

Michael inhaled hard and shifted his body so that one of his arms was dangling over into the water and his head was propped up on his other hand. “And what do you think?” he said slowly, wiggling his fingers in the warm water.

"I don't know." Sara shut her eyes and kept them closed as they spoke. "It's not like it's therapy. It isn't even a one-on-one thing. It's a group of women who get together and talk. The doctor said it's peer-led, and the counselor just offers information. She said the counselor is an assault. . ." Sara paused, making a face as she said the word, "victim, herself."

“Is it something you have to go to alone?” Michael said softly, lifting his wet hand from the water and tucking some strands of her darkened auburn tendrils behind her ear. His fingers slid over her skin effortlessly and he shifted his position on the floor when his leg went numb. “Is it even something you want to do? I mean, I’m not going to make you go.”

"They meet twice a week, and there's a night every other week when husbands or boyfriends or whoever can go. . ." Sara studied him closely, then shrugged. "I think I might want to go."

“Then you go, baby,” Michael said surely, raising on his knees and planting a kiss to her wet temple. “I’ll be there for you if you need me to be,” he told her firmly, letting his hand slip to her shoulder under the water.

"Yeah. . ." Sara's voice trailed off and she shrugged. "I'm just torn between wanting to try to talk about it and wanting to forget it ever happened at all."

“Maybe…” Michael said, shuffling on the floor again and standing to rub at the back of his thigh. “…maybe talking about it is the best way to forget about it,” he offered wisely.

"Or. . ." Sara opened her eyes and sat up in the tub a little. "Maybe we just pretend it didn't happen, and it will all go away."

Michael smiled down at her and arched an eyebrow. “You know that never works. Look at what happened the last time we swept something under the carpet. We nearly ended up losing each other,” he said gently, looking to his hand as he rubbed them together.

Sara nodded and stood up, motioning for him to hand her a towel. "Yeah. Okay. I'll go at least once to try it out."

Michael plucked the fluffy white towel from the handrail beside him and opened it out, moving towards the tub and wrapping it around her body for her. “That’s my girl,” he smiled softly, taking her hand and helping her from the tub. He leaned over and pulled the plug out of the hole and the water swirled down the drain. “How do you feel now?”

"A little better, still stuffy. . ." Sara shrugged and offered him a small smile. "I think I just want to stay in bed for the rest of the day."

“That’s a good idea,” Michael nodded to her as he grabbed another towel from the rail and patted her hair and shoulders dry with it. “I’ll just be your man slave for today,” he smirked from behind her, rubbing her hair with the towel. “Whatever you want, I’m on it.”

Sara giggled softly, fluttering her eyes shut as he touched her. "You know, I think I'd like it better if you were my man slave when I felt up to having you perform sexual acts."

Michael stilled his hands and leaned forward, brushing his lips over her shoulder. “I can be that slave if you want me to be,” he whispered.

"Michael. . ." Sara giggled and shook her head, pulling away from him just slightly. "Come on, I could be contagious. I don't want to give you my germs."

Michael smiled against her skin. “I could be immune…” he said softly, kissing up her neck and breathing his words into her ear. “…I might want your germs…” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around her body and holding her to him for a second before he sighed and pulled away. “But you’re right…we can’t risk both getting sick.”

"And then we'd give it to Roman, and the last thing I want is him sick. . ." Sara shook her head. "I just want to go to bed, and maybe eat some soup, and feel all better so I can see my baby tonight."


	45. Chapter 45

“So, I was thinking…” Michael said slowly, caressing his mug of coffee in both hands as he rested against the counter of their kitchen. He watched Sara playing with Roman through the serving hatch with a grin. “…I’d take you to dinner,” he smiled, looking up from his coffee at her.

Sara giggled at Roman who batted his hands at her. She reached out for him and swung him onto her hip, smiling at Michael. "Remember the last time we took Ro out for dinner, baby? We said never again. Not until he's one."

Michael lifted his coffee to his lips and took an audible gulp, wincing as the liquid burnt his throat. “Ah…no,” he clarified, resting the cup to the sideboard and shaking his head. “Just us.”

Sara let out a quiet shriek as Roman yanked hard on her hair, "Baby, no. Easy, right?" She smiled at Michael. "But we were gonna rent that new Disney movie and watch it tonight, remember?"

“Yeah, but Ro can watch it at Linc’s, right?” Michael arched his eyebrow at her. He didn’t wait for her to answer before he nodded back at her and walked out of the kitchen to join her. “Good,” Michael said triumphantly. “I’ll pack his stuff. Linc is already expecting him.”

"I guess he does have fun at Linc's," Sara nodded slowly, shifting the wiggling baby to her other hip. "And dinner would be nice."

She smiled softly at Michael as Roman reached out for him, "Dadadaddadad."

Michael plucked Roman from her body as he breezed passed her, lifting Roman into the air with a grunt and spinning the boy around. “Who wants to go to Uncle Linc’s?” he cooed excitedly. Roman giggled and let out a scream. “What’s that? You want to go?” he smirked at the baby as he jolted him up and down. Michael pulled a face at Roman and changed his voice into a high-pitched baby tone. “Yes, daddy, I want to go!” he leaned Roman over until he was almost upside down, giggling hysterically as Sara looked down at him. “Pwease, mommy. Can I go to Uncle Linc’s tonight so daddy can take you to dinner?”

Sara rolled her eyes and grinned. "Whatever my baby wants my baby gets!" She looked up to Michael. "Where are we going?"

Michael shrugged and pulled Roman back into an upright position. “Where ever you want,” he said confidently. “Whatever my baby wants, my baby gets,” he smirked, leaning forward to kiss her slowly.

"I don't know where I want to go," Sara shrugged, smiling against his lips. "Are you thinking somewhere fancy? We don't want to go somewhere we'll be too late if we're gonna pick Roman up before he falls asleep."

Michael struggled to hold Roman as he wiggled out of his grip and let our a frustrated growl. He lowered the boy to the floor, making sure he was holding onto his pants before he let him go and Roman could stand next to his father. The baby had only just mastered the art of standing upright, but was still scared of letting go, whether it be off the couch or his father’s legs. “That’s the beauty of Uncle Linc,” Michael giggled. “He gave Roman his own room, remember? He can stay all night if we want,” Michael raised his eyebrows quickly, flashing her a smile as he ruffled Roman’s hair.

"Oh." Sara glanced up from where she was smiling down at Roman to meet Michael's gaze. She recognized that look. "Ohhhh."

“What? You don’t want…to…?” Michael said sadly, pouting and giving her puppy dog eyes. “Sara, If you’re not ready we can wait. I can’t…” he laughed to himself coyly. “…But my hand does the job very well,” he nodded with a wink. "Is that a yes?" Michael called after her as she disappeared upstairs. He leaned on the banister at the bottom of the stairs and just smirked to himself when he heard her go into Roman's bedroom to get some things.

Sara stuck her head out the door and called down the stairs to Michael. "Yeah, he can stay with Linc tonight. Um. . . are you going to change?"

It wasn’t the confirmation Michael was after but at least it was a yes. They could talk more about it later. He began to climb the stairs and walked past Roman’s bedroom into their own. “Yeah, I am changing right now,” Michael called as entered his room. “You going to take Roman to Linc’s or do you want me to?” he called, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off his shoulders.

"I'll do it!" Sara breezed into their bedroom, Roman's bag slung over her shoulder. Roman clapped his hands and she grinned. "Say see you later, Daddy!"

Michael walked over to her and rested his hand to her back. He lowered his head between them and gave Roman a big, exaggerated, sloppy kiss. “Okay,” he said quickly, turning his head and tapping his cheek. “Kiss Daddy,” he said firmly. Roman grabbed Michael’s head and hummed again his cheek as he kissed him. Michael pulled back and pressed his finger to Sara’s cheek. “Now mommy…” he said playfully and Roman repeated his kiss to Sara’s face. He gave his dad a boyish grin and Michael patted his leg. “Good boy,” he nodded, moving back to his wardrobe and flicking through his shirts.

"Daddy is soooo silly!" Sara told Roman as they walked out of the room. She put her shoes on and snapped Roman into his car seat before pulling out of the driveway and heading to Linc's. She continued on a silly 'conversation' with Roman all the way there, but all she could think about was that Michael wanted sex.

Michael watched the leave from the bedroom window before moving back to his wardrobe. As he lifted his arm to pull one down form the rail, he caught a whiff of his body odor and grimaced. He lifted his arm more and sniffed, recoiling quickly with a groan. “I need a shower…” he said firmly, clicking his fingers at himself and turning for the en suite bathroom. He quickly shed his pants and slipped into the shower, turning the water on as hot as he could take it and quickly rubbing his hands over his body.

Sara dropped Roman off at Lincoln's and after giving him a thousand kisses, she returned home. Sighing she went upstairs, heading into their bedroom to find something to wear. "Michael, how should I --" She paused and smirked as he walked out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist. "Wow. Wear that and you could probably go home with any lady of your choice."

Michael finished rubbing the hand towel over his short hair and down his neck, his head whipping up to look at her. He gave her a smile and flicked the towel from his neck, stepping towards her and looping the towel around her neck. He pulled her towards him until their bodies were crushed together, the cool perspiration on his skin making her shirt wet. “I only want you,” he whispered.

Sara laughed quietly, looking up and meeting her eyes. She bit her bottom lip and leaned forward, looping her arm around his neck. She brushed her lips across his and grinned, "Is that so, Scofield?"

“That’s so,” he breathed, dropping the towel and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her even closer to him. “I want you,” he repeated in a sultry growl, taking a step backwards towards the bed and pulling her with him. “I…, ” he said slowly. “…want…” he added, looking down her body with hungry eyes. Finall, he looked back up to meet her eyes, following his finger that he had trailed up her body and began un-popping her shirt buttons. “…you.”

"Michael. . ." Sara glanced down, watching him undo her buttons. She tried to keep her gaze off of him and his perfect body, but it was hard. Glancing away, she whispered. "I thought you wanted dinner."

Michael inhaled deeply and undid the last button on her shirt. He slowly peeled the two edges of the shirt open and a low grumble escaped his throat. He twisted his mouth with thought and cocked his head, looking down at her enticing breasts, nestled elegantly in her bra. “Not really…” he shrugged.

Sara pulled away slightly, pulling her shirt back together and crossing her arms. "So, you just wanted sex then?" She arched an eyebrow. "And you weren't even planning on discussing it?"

Michael was taken back a little. “Um…Sara, I don’t just want sex,” Michael said with a frown. “Are you okay? I’m sorry.”

"I just don't get why you think. . ." Sara glanced away, then looked back to him. "So. You don't want sex? Of course not. Why would you want sex with me." Moving away from him, she moved into the bathroom, slamming the door.

Michael immediately felt the warmth of her body leave his still slightly damp one and he buried his face in his hands. He sighed heavily and followed her to the bathroom. He pressed his hands to the door and rested his face against the cool surface. “Sara…” he offered slowly. “…Sara, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Sara moved over and sat on the edge of the tub. Letting out a sigh, she called out, "Go away!"

Michael tapped on the door. “Sara!” Michael called loudly again. “Sara…” he said in a warning tone. “Come out,” he coaxed gently, pacing to and fro from the door.

Sara stood up and yanked the bathroom door open, giving Michael a look. "What the hell do you want?"

“What do you want, Sara?” Michael repeated her words, spinning to face her. “The most you’ve let me touch you in the last two weeks was in the shower,” he yelled in a pathetic tone. “Why won’t you let me near you? Are you scared of me?”

"No, I'm not scared of you!" Sara snapped. "I could never be scared of you, Michael." She took a deep breath, swallowing her anger. "I just. . . I feel so. . . I told you what he did to me. Why would you even want to touch me?"

“You’re my wife, Sara!” Michael cried. “For better, for worse…” he said gruffly. “And I am not excusing what he did to you. Nothing ever will, Sara.”

Sara stood, her arms crossed, glaring at him. After a second, she dropped her gaze and her eyes stung with tears. Sighing, she looked back up at him. "I just wish I could be better for you." She took a step into him, wrapping her arms around his bare shoulders. "I want. . . I want you to touch me. I want you to make me forget."

Michael sighed and step into her even more. He lifted his hands to her face pulled her face to his, rolling his forehead against hers. “Then let me,” he pleaded. “Please…”

Sara tilted her head, brushing her lips against his. She nodded slowly. "Make love to me, Michael."

“Oh, Sara…” Michael sighed sadly, pulling away from her a little. “I want to, I really do…” he said, taking her hands in his and looked down to the floor. “…but I don’t want to…force you…” he said looking away from her.

"You're not forcing me," Sara shook her head quickly, cupping his face in her hands. "You would never, never do that." She pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. "I want you. . . if you want me?"

Michael groaned against her lips, letting his eyes flutter closed. He had never felt so alive. He had longed for Sara to touch him for too long and now that she was all he could do was whimper her name. “Sara…” he whispered, clutching her wrists in his hand. He didn’t even wait for her reply before seizing her lips in a heated kiss, running his fingers through her hair and cradling her head in his hands.

Sara trailed her fingers down his spine, dancing them over the bumps. She moaned into his mouth and settled her hands on his waist, losing his towel. It fell to the ground with a quiet thud and she moved her hands between them to undo her own belt.

Michael’s skin tingled and he broke the kiss quickly when his towel sailed to the floor of their bedroom and Sara’s hands brushed his waist as she undid her own belt. He looked between them, watching her undress and he gasped when she stepped from her pants. He took a step backwards, looking over his shoulder to the bed. “How…” he stumbled over his words, looping his fingers into her panties and tugging her towards him. “…how do you want…” he shut off his words with a kiss.

"Just. . ." Sara moaned into his mouth, bringing her hands back up to his face. She sucked on his lower lip, taking a deep breath, trying to control herself. "Let's just go slow, okay? I love you."

“I love you too,” he whispered sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling her to him. He smoothed his hands around her thigh and over her behind, tickling at the base of her spine with feathery fingertips. He tilted his head back and looked up at her as his hands roamed her body. “Are you…is this okay?” he asked concerned.

"Yeah," Sara puffed against his neck, nodding slowly. "Yeah, Michael. . . this is more than okay." She dipped her head, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

“You just tell me if anything is weird, okay?” he told her softly, leaning forward and planting a kiss to her stomach.

Sara smiled softly, running her fingers through his short hair. "It's not going to be weird, Michael. I want to make love to you, okay?"

Michael looked up at her again and smiled, pushing himself backwards onto the bed and motioning her to join him with an open palm. “I’ll go slow,” he whispered, taking her hand and pulling her onto the bed with him.

Sara smirked and laid down next to him, running her hand over his bare chest. She leaned in, pressing one of her legs in between his. "Not too slow though, okay?"

Michael looked over to her and rolled onto his side, rested his head on his hand and propping it up with his elbow. He smoothed his hand down her ribcage, over her hip and hooked his hand behind her knee. He lifted her leg, dragging it over his hip and seating himself between her thighs. Michael trailed his hand back up her body, making ever hair on her body stand on end. He cupped her face in his hand, pulling her face to his again for a heated kiss. He trailed his tongue along her bottom lip, nibbling on it slowly with a moan.

Sara moaned softly against his mouth, fluttering her eyes shut. She trailed her hand down his torso, rubbing her thumb over his hipbone. After a second, she dropped her hand, gently tracing a finger over his hardened length. "I'm sorry we waited so long for this."

Michael’s hand shot out between their bodies and grabbed her wrist. “Sara…” he said in a warning tone, gently lifted her hand away from his erection. “…please…don’t…” he rasped, gulping hard and mentally kicking himself for stopping her. “…This is not about me…”

Sara tilted her head to the side, giving him a look. She pulled her hand back to her body and sighed. "Shouldn't it be about us, Michael?"

“It’s all about you…” he said softly, tracing the outside of her breasts with long, lissom fingers and brushed his thumb over her nipple. “…I want it to be about you,” he said, dipping his head and kissing a trail down the valley of her breasts. His mouth slid sideways and she gasped when he took her nipple into his hot, wet mouth.

"Michael. . ." Sara murmured, biting onto her bottom lip. "Mmm. . ." Her eyes fluttered closed and she giggled quietly. "I love you. I love you so much."

Sara’s word just encouraged Michael more and he sucked harder at her rosy flesh. He ground his hips forward, slicking himself over her damp entrance. “Oh god…Sara…” Michael moaned, grappling with her body and pulling her closer to him.

Sara bit hard against her bottom lip, letting out a quiet moan. She pressed herself against his body and bit gently at his neck. "I want you in me."

He kissed back up her body, up over her chin and recaptured her lips with his. He gripped her shoulders, pulling her even closer. One of his hands slid over her skin, sliding down to her lower back, and pulling her hips closer to his. His hand trailed over her hip, slipping between her thighs and rubbing his fingers across her slippery folds. “Oh baby…you’re ready for me aren’t you?” he whimpered against her mouth.

Sara's breath caught in her throat when he touched her. "Oh, baby. Oh, yeah. . ." She sucked gently on his bottom lip. "I am so ready to feel you inside me again. Are you ready for me?"

“Yes…Always…” Michael moaned, reaching between their bodies and taking himself in his hand. He slowly stroked up and down his length. He moved himself across Sara’s opening and dipped his sensitive tip inside of her. He gritted his teeth and forced his eyes open, focusing on her heavy-lidded stare. When she looked at him again, he licked his lips and pressed his forehead to hers. “Still okay?” he rasped huskily.

Sara shifted her hips up so that he was a little more inside her. She nodded slowly, fluttering her eyes closed. "Better than okay, Michael." Slowly she brought her hand around the back of his head, drawing him down into a slow kiss.

Michael met her lips with a fiery passion, delving his tongue into her mouth in long, slow thrusts as he massaged her tongue. He let his hand drift to her hip and then down her thigh to the back of her knee where he gripped at the joint and pulled her even closer to him. With one slow, shuddering thrust he entered her and held his breath as she took him in. “Okay, I promise, this is the last time…” he breathed raggedly between kisses with a slight grin. “…but I want to make sure you’re okay.”

Sara smiled against his smile and nodded. Moving her hands down, she pressing her fingers into his shoulders and bit her bottom lip. "Mmmm. Yeah, Michael. I'm okay." Her eyes fluttered shut. "I love you so much."

“Oh God, Sara…” Michael sighed as he began to move his hips back and forth. “…You have no idea how much I love you too,” he panted. He dipped his head as they moved, ravaging her jaw with kisses that he trailed down her neck and across her breasts. Michael let out a groan and swung his body against Sara, rolling them over still intimately connected and pinning her to the bed with his bulk.

Sara groaned as his weight fell on her. She placed a soft kiss to his neck again and let her head fall back on the pillow. "I bet I do. . ." she whispered as her hips bucked into his. "If it's half as much as I love you. . ."

Michael angled his hips upwards as he thrust, and Sara arched her back with a sigh. “Oh, it’s more…” he whispered, watching her face contort with pleasure.

Sara brushed her lips against his, smiling softly against his mouth. "Oh baby. . ." she spoke with her lips against his, running her hand down and over his hipbone. "You could never love me more."

Michael let out a low chuckle against the soft skin of her neck and his hand found her hipbone, holding it tight while he entered her and buried himself until their pubic bones were touching. He listened to Sara’s moan and felt her shiver beneath him. He smirked, kissing back up to her mouth. “Wanna bet, Mrs. Scofield?” he rasped against her face, repeating his thrust that left Sara begging for more.

"Mmm, Michael," Sara murmured against his neck. She grinned, laying back to look at him. "Come on. . . oh yeah, baby right there feels so good. . . you know how much I love you." Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment. "How do you think you could love me more?"

“I just…oh…yeah…shit, Sara…” Michael babbled. “…I just know,” he finally choked out. “How do you think you could love me more?”

"Michael . . . Michael!" Sara tried her best to fight her orgasm. After several moments of silence, she flipped him over, straddling his waist. She let out a hiss, trying not to come. "God, I just love you more."

“Okay, baby…” Michael smirked, sitting up and gripping her body to his. He captured one of her fleshy nipples in his mouth, rolling the hard nub between his teeth and sucking on it gently. “…you win,” he panted against her skin as his vision flashed white and he lost all control of his senses. Michael’s orgasm ripped through him like a tidal wave, decimating every nerve ending in its path and leaving him shivering with pleasure. He let our a groan of half pleasure, half pain as Sara impaled herself on him still, his spent seed oozing from her scorching core and back over his member.

Sara cried out, pushing Michael back down onto the bed. She came fast, calling out his name and leaning over, pressing her head against his chest. Her breathing became rapid and her hair fanned out around her, so he couldn't see her face. It took her a moment to catch her breath. "Wow. Michael."

“Ah…ah…ah…” Michael panted, slamming his head into the pillows and letting his arms fall out to his sides. A fine layer of sweat shimmered over their bodies and glued them together as they heaved for rapid breath on the sheets. “…Holy fuck…” he breathed, blinking his vision clear and staring up at the ceiling with a low rumbling chuckle.

Sara finally lifted her head, smiling down at him. She watched him for a moment, just sharing a smile before she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. "I do win. You know why?"

Michael tilted his chin to his chest and shook his head. “No, and any witty come back I might have had left me about two minutes ago,” he laughed, bringing his hand back up to trace light patterns on the small of her back. “Why?”

"Because . . ." Sara trailed off. She shifted off of him and moved so that she was laying next to him in the bed. After a few moments of drawing lazy patterns on his chest that had nothing to do with the tattoos, she looked back up at him. "I win because I have you, Michael Scofield. And that's the best prize of all."

Michael smiled at her sweetly and flattened his hand over hers on his chest. Their wedding bands clinked together briefly and Michael looked down at them. He lifted Sara’s hand, pressing his lips to hers before replacing their intertwined hands back to the steady thumping of his heart. “We both win, Sara Scofield,” he whispered with a smile.


	46. Chapter 46

Michael watched as Sara navigated the bedroom and chose the outfit she wanted to wear. He figured she’d probably take it off again, but there was no sense in telling her. Perched on the edge of the bed he watched her move around like an oversized humming bird before he finally stilled her frenzied rampage with a soft grip on her hand. He waited until their eyes met and he brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “I’m proud of you for doing this, you know that, right?”

"It's not something that's a big deal, Michael," Sara shook her head slowly and pulled her hand away from him. She took in her reflection in the mirror, carefully judging her dark purple sweater. She turned back to him expectantly. "Should I change? Maybe wear something nicer than jeans?"

Michael shook his head slowly and gripped at the edge of the mattress, slightly heart broken she had shunned his affection again. “I don’t think the object is to impress the group…” he said with a small upturned smile.

"But I still want to look nice," Sara shook her head and crossed her arms in front of her. "How late is Roman staying at Linc's tonight? Did you want me to pick him up on my way home?"

“Roman is fine,” Michael soothed gently, pushing himself to his feet and padding across the soft bedroom carpet barefooted. “Please, let me worry about Roman. He is safe, I promise,” he said softly, reaching out a hand tentatively and stroking her upper arm. Michael was afraid to touch her but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t stop himself because all he wanted to do was comfort her and make everything better.

"I know he's fine. He loves it at Linc's," Sara hesitated, then stepped into Michael, leaning her head against his chest. "I'd just rather worry about him than worry about this meeting."

Michael sighed with relief and pressed his lips to Sara’s soft, ruddy hair. “Are you sure you want to go?” He asked gently.

"No. I don't want to go at all," Sara wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer to her. She felt her breath hitch. "I think maybe I need to go?"

“Need to go?” Michael asked, a little hurt Sara didn’t feel she could talk to him about what had happened. “I could…maybe you need some support tonight?” He tried tenderly, smoothing his fingertips over her back.

"No," Sara responded quickly, pulling away and shaking her head. "I know I told you that spouses could go. But Michael you. . . you don't need to hear me talk about it."

“Okay…” Michael said slowly, watching her move from him suddenly. “What if I want to hear it?” he said, looking down at the void of his missing toes and pushing his hands into the pockets of his pants.

Sara raised her eyes and caught his gaze, shaking her head slowly. "Trust me. You don't."

Michael snapped his head up to her and narrowed his gaze. “Sara, I care I really do. I love you so much and it kills me to know you wont share this with me. Won’t let me carry half of your burden like I promised to on our wedding day.”

"I know you care about me, Michael," Sara said softly. "I know you love me more than anything, okay? And that this doesn't even make you feel any different about me. But I. . ." She took a deep breath. "I need to keep you separate."

“Separate? What does that even mean?” Michael said softly, looking back down to his feet. “Sara, what happened…” he began, licking his lips before raising his head to meet her eyes again. “…There was nothing you could have done, you know that right? Nobody blames you. I don’t blame you.” He paused, taking his head from his pockets again. “I don’t want to be separate, Sara. I want to help.”

"I blame me," Sara whispered, taking a deep breath and looking away. Her eyes filled with tears and she took a deep breath. "And you are. . . you are so perfect and good, Michael. I can't bring you into that part of my world."

Michael took a step towards her again and titled his head to the side with a soft sigh. “Sara, I’m already there,” he smiled weakly. He paused, watching her silent reaction in her hazel eyes that had lost most of their usual sparkle. “But if you want me to stay home, I will,” he agreed in protest.

Sara crossed her arms, hugging herself tightly. "I need you to stay home. I'm going to be late if I don't leave now."

Michael nodded and fished in his pockets again. “Here,” he said, offering her a folded paper rose. “Good luck?” he smiled, unsure of his own words as he twiddled the rose stem in between his fingers. He chuckled a little, watching the rose in his hand for a second before her shrugged. “I didn’t know what else to say.”

"You didn't have. . ." Sara trailed off as she took the rose from him. She held it to her lips for a second, then nodded. "I won't be gone long."

Michael nodded in agreement and stepped forward, gently cupping his warm hand around her elbow and holding her as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Be careful,” he whispered against her skin.

"Well, I'm not planning on getting raped again," Sara whispered, her words coming out more callous then she intended. Turning her head, she brushed a kiss across his cheek, then hurried down the stairs and out of the house.

Sara’s words made Michael’s heart wrenched and he had to sustain all the willpower he had not to follow her and make sure she was safe. He worried, more so now than ever before. For what seemed like forever he stood, inhaling the scent in the gap she had left when she had turned and gone.

Sara sat in her car for a couple minutes, weighing her options. Finally, before she could think better of it, she got out and walked back into the house. Moving upstairs, she found him standing in the exact same spot he had been. "Michael?"

Michael jolted upright, his eyes popping open and his thought interrupted. “Sara?” he shot a look at his wrist, checking the time. “You’re back,” he observed dumbly. “Are you okay?”

Sara crossed her arms, then uncrossed them, keeping her gaze on the floor. "No, not really. I think I need you to come with me."

Michel’s heart fluttered and he inhaled softly, letting a smile grace his lips. “Of course,” he said gently. “Whatever you need.” Moving to the cabinet beside the door he pulled out the draw and fished for a pair of socks, sliding them onto his feet as he hopped about the room and then slipped into his shoes. He reached into his wardrobe and pulled out a thin, khaki jacket and threw it over his shoulders, pushing his arms into the sleeves. “Ready?”

Sara nodded slowly and started for the door before turning around and wrapping her arms around him. She held him for a second, pressing her forehead to his cheek. "I'm sorry."

Michael instinctively held her close to them but he was taken back by her sudden burst of affection. Something she had lacked in the last few days. “For?” he asked softly, relishing in the feel of her against his body.

"Being so distant," Sara murmured, shutting her eyes. She shook her head. "I don't want to push you away."

Michael hugged her tighter and shook his head, pulling against the top of her hair with his stubble. “You didn’t,” he lied with a smile. “I know what it was like for you because it’s the stuff of my nightmares,” he said softly, pulling back to look at her. “I just don’t want you to go through it alone, that’s all,” he smiled reaching up and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"I know. It's just hard," Sara said softly, completely pulling away and shrugging a little. "We'd better go."

Michael followed her out of the bedroom, down the stairs and then checked he had his keys one last time before closing the front door behind him. He followed Sara to the car and when she pulled open the driver's side he moved around to get into the passenger seat. He slid into the interior that creaked under his weight and fastened his belt.

Sara pulled the car out of the driveway and glanced over at him, giving him a nervous smile. "You're sure you're okay with going? And listening to me talk about this?"

Michael reached over and rested his hand on her thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Yes,” he said simply, nodding to her.

Sara looked at him again, then back to the road. "You being there is going to make me cry, you know."

Michael let out a small laugh and looked ahead to the road. “Good. Crying is good.”

Sara pulled into the parking lot and turned the car off, but remained still. "I guess I just worry that if you hear everything. . . you're not going to want to touch me again."

Michael unclipped his belt and let it get pulled back into the tight roll on the holder and turned his entire body in his seat. He frowned at her. “Is that what you think?” he asked softly. “Because that would never happen, Sara.”

"I know that," Sara whispered. "Somewhere inside I know that, Michael." She undid her seatbelt and shifted uncomfortably. "But I just feel like. . . what happens if you decide that you feel like I'm not just yours anymore?"

Michael shook his head. “Why would I even think that? What happened was not your fault. You were the victim and as your husband, so was I,” he licked his lips and looked at her dead in the eyes. “I love you. Nothing will ever change how I feel about you.”

Sara leaned over and caught his mouth in a soft kiss. It was the first she had initiated since her attack. Sighing softly against him, she brought her hand up, cupping his cheek.

Michael’s skin was shocked to life when Sara placed her hand on his face and he moaned a little against her mouth. He had missed this and he gently parted his lips to encourage her to massage his tongue. He reached out and rested his hand on her thigh, gently tracing circles up the inner muscles slowly before Sara pulled away quickly. “I’m sorry…” Michael said quickly. “I’m sorry.”

"No, don't be. It's not you. You have nothing to be sorry for." She reached over taking his hand in hers. "It's not you. Trust me, okay?"

Michael blinked slowly and looked over to her in the dimly lit car. He twiddled with her fingers and then took a huge breath, holding it as he spoke. “Do you think…If Linc had Ro all night…would you?” he tried hopefully, finally looking up to her sheepishly out of the corner of his eye.

Sara smiled softly and thought for a second. Reaching over, she brushed her fingertips across his cheek. "Yeah, Michael. . . I think I'd like us to. . ."

“Okay,” Michael grinned excitedly, turning back in his seat and smiling at his faint reflection in the windshield. “Okay…” he sighed, leaning back to her and planting a kiss on her cheek.

"God, Michael," Sara rolled her eyes a little and smiled as she got out of the car. "You already look like you got laid."

Michael closed his door and smirked over the top of the hood. “I just want to make you happy, and you agreeing to let me means a lot.”

Sara moved around to his side of the car, automatically reaching for his hand. "I don't need sex to make me happy."

Michael took her hand, entwining their fingers. “I know,” he said softly, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles as they made their way across the parking lot. “Just being with you make me happy as long as you are happy, so whatever you need.”

Sara paused at the door, waiting for him to open it for her. "You're what I need, Michael. Just you."

Michael smiled at her sweetly, pressing his hand to the door for a while before he leaned his weight against it and it swung open with a creak. “Then let’s do this.”

Sara was surprised as to how many people were in the room. She had expected less than a handful, but there were almost a dozen women, plus a few husbands. She felt herself shrinking inward and took a step closer to Michael, waiting for him to lead them to seats.

Michael noticed the crowded room and felt Sara grip at his hand, pulling tighter against his arm. “It’s okay,” he whispered out of earshot of anyone else as he spied two seats next to each other. “I’m here,” he said softly, squeezing her hand gently as he pulled her around the circle to the empty blue chairs.

"I know," Sara whispered softly, nodding slowly. She sat down but didn't let go of him. "I know."

Michael was about to say something when a petite brunette stood up and stepped into the circle. She introduced herself as the group coordinator as she waved her hands as she spoke, looking at each and every person with a smile. “My name is Julie,” she said cheerily, pressing her hand to her chest. “And now for group introductions.” She opened her flat palm and held it out to a young woman who looked scared of her shadow sitting next to her.

Sara watched as the women went around the room introducing themselves. A hot flush enveloped her cheeks and she glanced to Michael. "God, it's like NA."

“It’s okay…” Michael rubbing his palm over the back of her hand on his and leaned over to whisper into her ear behind her ear. “Just tell them your name and what happened. That’s all,” he reassured her. “I’m here.”

Sara pulled her hand away from Michael and wrung them together in her lap. The counselor nodded to her and Sara nodded back. "My name is Sara. . ." She fought the urge to add and I'm an addict. "I was uh. . . attacked. . . in the parking lot of a shopping center last week."

Michael watched her profile, swallowing hard and feeling the bile rise in his throat. If it was hard for Sara to say out loud, it was even harder for him to hear and stay relaxed. He felt a muscle in his neck twitch and he gently rested his hand on his knee, letting Sara know it was there if she needed it.

Sara cleared her throat and glanced around the circle. "This is my first time here."

Julie nodded and glanced to Michael. "And who is this here with you."

Michael looked up at Julie and cleared his throat, coughing into a clenched fist. “I’m Sara’s husband.”

Sara glanced to Michael and smiled a little. "I think he might be more nervous than I am."

Julie smiled softly at them. "And do you have a name, Sara's husband?"

Michael smiled and mockingly slapped himself in the forehead. “It’s Michael,” he nodded. “I’m Michael Scofield.”

Julie nodded. "Hi, Michael. And why did you think it was important to accompany Sara today?"

Michael took a breath to answer but his words were interrupted by a shrill from across the room. “You’re Michael Scofield? THE Michael Scofield?” Everyone turned to look at the woman across the circle, almost on the edge of her seat with flushed red cheeks. A few couples looked between Sara and Michael and the woman before she broke out into a small smile. “He broke out of Fox River…The prison!”

Michael looked to Sara and frowned before facing the nattering circle again. “I…” he began but another group member cut him off.

"Right. And she's Sara Tancredi!" Another voice piped up. She glanced at her husband, then to Sara. "Did you really leave that door open?"

Sara squinted and cleared her throat. "Excuse me?"

Michael sat up straighter and leaned his arm over Sara’s chest to try and block her from their questions. “Come on…this isn’t the time….”

“Wow…” Said the first voice again. Michael looked at the young girl who was clutching her shirt at her heart with a heavy-lidded stare. “…Can we see the tattoo…please?” he breathed.

Julie stepped between the girl and Michael, giving the young girl a disbelieving stare. "These questions are in no way appropriate, Shannon."

Michael looked over to Sara and leant closer to her. “Are you okay?” He whispered, tracing the outline of her knuckles with his fingertips.

Sara pulled her hand away and crossed her arms over her chest, glancing down. "I want to go home."

“Me too,” Michael said as he pushed himself to his feet and offered Sara his hand. As he stood, so did a few other people. One flocked to him and asked for his autograph while another shook his hand and tucked her phone number between his fingers. Michael looked at the number in disgust before throwing it back at her and grappling Sara’s hand in his. “What is wrong with you people?”

Sara pulled her hand from his again, crossing her arms and hurrying ahead of him to the car. She moved to the passenger side, her head down and her hand on the door. "I don't want to drive."

Michael slid into the driver's seat and slammed the door behind him. He turned to her a little out of breath from chasing her across the parking lot and rested a hand to the wheel. “You’re mad at me?” He asked, his voice concerned rather then irritated.

"No, I'm not mad at you," Sara whispered, shaking her head. She kept her gaze rooted on her lap. "Let's just go home, please?"

Michael nodded and reshuffled himself back into the seat, starting the engine and letting the engine run for a few seconds. “I’m sorry…” he said, sighing and banging his forehead on the middle of the wheel. “…What a time for someone to notice who I am, huh?” he chuckled softly, gritting his teeth.

"If I had only known I was marrying a celebrity," Sara teased softly, a slight smile tugging at her mouth. "You probably should have asked for a prenup."

Michael lifted his head and arched an eyebrow. “Should I have, Scofield?” he teased, biting his bottom lip playfully.

"Well. . ." Sara drew out the word and shrugged. "Maybe I'm the one who should have. That way when I write a tell-all about how you used your sexy advantages to manipulate me into not only leaving that door open but marrying you too. . . I'd get to keep all the millions."

Michael giggled and shot her a glance before returning his eyes to the road ahead of him. “You would, wouldn’t you?” he said with a smirk. “I knew it.”

Sara leaned over, resting her head gently on his shoulder. "I thought it would be nice to try to talk to other people about what happened."

Michael nodded slowly and watched the lights on the side of the road approach and pass them as he drove. “It would have been,” he began, turning his head to press a kiss to her hair quickly. “But not those people. They were more like…” he struggled with the term, twisting his face in thought.

"It doesn't matter," Sara whispered, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter. Let's just forget about them, okay?"

“Yeah,” Michael said softly, sighing a little. “When you’re ready, I’ll listen to everything, okay?”

"Michael. . ." Sara whispered, leaning over and pressing her open palm to his thigh. "I'll get over it eventually, you know that right? I don't flinch when you touch me, or tense up, or pull away because I'm scared of you. I need you to know that."

Michael flashed a glance at the palm on his thigh before lifting his eyes and meeting her gaze for a second. When he turned his attention back to the deserted road and smiled. “I know you’re not. I know.”

"Because I love you," Sara whispered, leaning over and brushing her lips across his neck. "I love you more than you will ever know."

Michael swallowed hard and let his eyes flutter closed, leaning into her kiss a little. “If it’s as much as I love you…” he gulped, gripping the wheel. “…Then I’ll always know.”

Sara nipped lightly at his sensitive skin, flicking her tongue out to rub over the bite mark she'd just made. "Michael, get home faster."

Sara walked into the house and dropped her purse on the table. She slid out of her shoes before turning around and smiling at Michael. Walking backwards, she slowly made her way to the stairs. "Thank you for being there for me tonight."

Michael smiled back at Sarah as he kicked his shoes off, balancing himself against the kitchen counter. His eyes widened slightly and his smile broke out into a boyish grin. “You know I’d always be there for you. Tonight was no exception,” he said huskily, dropping his gaze to his feet as he stepped from one shoe.

"I know," Sara nodded slowly, walking over to him. She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck and smiled. "You sure Linc doesn't mind keeping Roman tonight?"

Michael looped his warmed hands around the back of Sarah petite body and pulled her too him gently. When their bodies met, he watched his fingers as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as he spoke. “Not at all.”

"Good," Sara whispered, nodding slowly. She leaned in and pressed her lips softly to his. "I love you."

“I love you,” Michael whispered between kisses, leaning into Sara’s body as he pulled them back to lean on the counter. His hands slid over the fabric of Sarah’s sweater, smoothing over her shoulder blades and down her spine before tugging on the hem of the garment.

Sara slid her hands under the hem of Michael's shirt and tilted her head to the stairs. "Want to take this upstairs?"

Michael dipped his head to Sara’s collarbone and pressed his lips to her milky skin. “Without sounding desperate…” he started between kisses with a grin. “…Hell yeah.”

Sara laughed softly and pulled away, tugging him towards the stairs. "I missed you, Scofield."

Michael let his arm go limp and couldn’t help drag his eyes up and down Sarah’s body as she swayed towards the stair, pulling him after her. He bit his lip and let out a small groan before his eyes met hers again and he grinned. “Why don’t you show me how much?” He quipped with a raised eyebrow.

Sara kissed him as they stumbled up the stairs. Pulling away she smiled against his mouth. "We're going to trip and fall."

Michael pushed against Sarah as he climbed the stairs awkwardly. “I’ll catch you,” he breathed, fumbling with the edge of his shirt and pulling it up over his head.

"You always catch me," Sara whispered, leading him backwards into the bedroom. Smiling softly she slowly pulled her shirt over her head.

“Oh Sarah,” Michael whispered, unable to control his excitement and want anymore. “I want you,” he moaned huskily, pulling her almost bare chest against his roughly and planting his lips in tiny kisses all over her face.

Sara laughed softly and wrapped her arms around him. She dropped down to the bed and ran her hand over the bulge in his pants. "I can tell."

Michael’s entire body shuddered when Sarah touched him, and he felt his erection harden in his boxers. He exhaled hard and felt his skin prickle, every hair on his body standing to attention under Sarah’s assault. “You do something to me I can’t explain you know,” he chuckled lightly as he pulled his belt free from its loops and dropped it to the floor beside him with a clutter of metal.

"I can explain it," Sara teased quietly. "You love me."

“That’s it?” Michael laughed, quirking his eyebrow playfully. He stepped forward until his knees met the bed and then towered over Sarah, pushing her gently back onto the mattress. “I knew it was something.”


	47. Chapter 47

Out of the corner of his eye, Michael watched Roman as he sat and played in a patch of sunshine to the left of the television. Michael was watching a program on structural engineering, laughing quietly to himself when the presenter interviewed someone who obviously knew nothing about the profession. Michael heard a crash and looked to Roman who had pulled some DVD's out of the rack. "Roman, don't do that."

"Daddy. . ." Roman sighed and began to go through the DVDs. He picked one up and threw it to the side, then picked up another and threw it to the side. He grabbed another handful out of the rack and started throwing them too. "Watch a moooovie!" He reached for the DVD rack again, but instead of pulling DVDs off he sent the entire rack tumbling backwards into the wall.

"Roman!" Michael shouted, jumping to his feet and towering over the boy who looked up at him with wide, scared eyes. Michael bit his tongue, trying to calm his anger as he stepped over the boy and pulled the dvd rack back into its standing position. He slid the discarded DVD's back into place and pulled Roman into his arms. "Now sit still and watch TV with daddy," Michael said agitated as he sat back on the couch with Roman on his lap.

"No, Daddy!" Roman wiggled out of his lap and made a long, whining sound. "You're booooooooring." He sighed and moved back to the DVDs. He sent his father a defiant look and pulled another handful out, tossing them to the ground. "I want Linc."

"No," Michael said calmly, pushing himself to his feet and putting the DVD's back. "Uncle Linc is busy. He can't come and play today," he said and pulled the boy back into his arms. He moved him back to his toys and shook a teddy bear in his face. "Look, you play here," he said, running a car over his leg whilst making engine noises.

"No." Roman took the car from Michael's hands and tossed it across the room. "No play, Daddy. No. No no no no nononono." He glanced around the room and his bottom lip began to quiver. "Mommy?"

"Mommy is not here," Michael said softly, hiding his aggravated voice behind a smile. He retrieved the metal car and offered it back to his son. "You'll have to play with me."

Roman's bottom lip began to quiver more. He was tired, and he wanted his mommy. He took the car from Michael's hand, paused for a moment, then threw the car at Michael. "Nooooooo!"

Michael let out a cry when the car hit him in the forehead and he fell backwards against the floor. His hand covered the area where he had been hit and he was temporarily dazed. He sat back up slowly, his eyes pinched closed and his face twisted as his head began to throb. "God dammit, Roman!" Michael shouted at him, dabbing his hand to his head to inspect for blood. "Bad boy!"

Roman's bottom lip quivered even more and a slight wail began to rise up. He let out a whimper and stood up, "No. Bad Daddy."

"No!" Michael bellowed at him, standing to his feet and pinching his eyes closed when he felt dizzy again. "Bad Roman!" he shouted in a harsh tone, pointing down at his son. "You hurt daddy," he said, taking the boy by the arm and dragging him quickly through the house. "That's naughty," he added, picking the boy up and putting him on the armchair. "Time out, Ro!"

Roman burst into another loud wail, scared by his daddy's tone. Sara put him in time out on occasion, but she never yelled at him. He choked on a sob and lay down face first in the armchair. "I. . ." he let out another sob. "Want Mommmmmyyyy!"

"Well too bad, mommy isn't here," Michael said roughly, lifting him back into a sit and pushing him against the back of the chair. "Now sit up and behave!"

Roman jerked away from his grasp, scared of him. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and fell over again, letting out a chorus racking sobs. "Momomomomomomom."

"Shut up!" Michael snapped, leaning over and shouting in the boys face. "Shut up, Roman!" Michael cried at him, grabbing the sides of his head to try and block out the piercing wails.

Roman's wailing only intensified as his father continued to scream at him. He pressed his hands over his own ears, shaking his head. "Daddy daddy daaaaaddy, nooooo."

Sara entered the house, smiling brightly and ready to call out a greeting to her boys. Instead she was met with the sound of wailing and shouting. She hurried into the lounge. "What's going on?"

"Mommy!" Roman cried, sliding to the edge of the couch where he was met by his father's firm grip. Michael lifted him back into the seat and Roman screamed louder.

"No, Roman. Time out!" Michael roared, letting at a frustrated sigh and ignoring Sara's question.

"Stop it!" Sara turned to Michael seeing the look of rage on his face. "Stop yelling at him. Don't grab him like that. What. . ." She quickly turned back to Roman, wanting to move to get him. "Mommy's here, baby."

Michael spun and pressed the back of his legs to the armchair, stopping Roman from getting off. "Don't you dare, Sara," Michael warned her, holding out a pointed finger towards her. He pointed to his face where a purple bruise had began to form on his eyebrow. "Look! He threw a toy and he is being punished!"

Sara rolled her eyes. "Jesus Christ, Michael! He's scared to death. There's putting him in time out and then there's just being mean. You're being mean to him. What are you thinking. . ." She looked back to Roman. "It's okay, baby. You're not in trouble."

"Sara, have you even stopped to think about the long term?" He stepped towards her with a menacing growl. "If he doesn't learn it's bad now...what happens when he goes to school and starts beating up the other kids, huh?" he shouted over Roman's cries.

"Oh my God, Michael! Would you listen to yourself! He's just a little kid. It was probably you're fault anyway." She moved to step around him, but he blocked her. "Let me get to my son."

Meanwhile, Roman's cries escalated. He held out his hands and sobbed, "Mommyyyyyyy!"

"No!" Michael screamed, his blood boiling in his ears and his head throbbing even more than it was before. "He is my son too! I'll punish him how I see fit!"

"Michael. . ." Sara lowered her voice and tried to reason with him. "I need you to listen to yourself." She glanced behind Michael to where Roman was reaching out for her, his pathetic sobs breaking her heart. "He doesn't understand what's going on. You're scaring him, Michael. I need you to listen to yourself, okay?" She moved to get around him again, but he grabbed her roughly, yanking her back in front of him.

"I can hear myself fine, Sara," he said in a lowered voice, his hand gripping at her skin harshly, overpowering her attempts to shake him off. "It's you that needs to listen to me," he said angrily. "He was bad and he needs punishing, not hugging!"

Sara struggled against Michael for a moment before she was finally able to break away. She stared at his face for a moment, shocked by how angry he looked. She moved to go around him again, but he reached for her. Before he could grab her, and before she could think of anything else, she hit him across the shoulder as hard as she could. While he grabbed his arm, Sara moved around him, reaching for her son. Roman practically threw himself in her arms and she cradled him to her chest, pressing her lips to his head as he wailed into her neck.

"You know what?" Michael said, pinching his shoulder lightly where she hit him. "If you think you can undermine me all the time, Sara, you are seriously mistaken," he growled.

"I could care less what you have to say right now, Michael. . ." Sara dropped down into the armchair, pulling Roman even tighter against her. "Mommy's got you. She's not gonna let anything happen to you."

Roman clutched to her shirt tightly, shaking his head against the material. "Daddy. . ." He let out another wail. "Daddy scary."

"Happen to him?" Michael frowned at her. "Sara, i'd never hurt him," he said in a shocked tone. "You think...?" he stopped abruptly, turning away from her and rubbing his hand across his forehead with a wince. Finally he looked up at her with narrowed eyes and a half open gasp. "You don't trust me with our son," he said slowly. It wasn't a question.

Sara brushed her hand through Roman's hair and stared up at Michael. "I left you two alone for an hour, Michael. An hour. And. . ."

She was interrupted by a loud, choking cough from Roman. He shifted his position on Sara's lap, wrapping his arms tightly around her neck. He buried his face in her hair. "No go byebye. No Daddy. Noooooo."

"Mommy's not going anywhere." She looked up to Michael, rubbing her hand slowly around Roman's back. "I'm not the one who doesn't trust you right now."

"How I am supposed to be a good parent then, Sara, tell me," Michael said, the anger still evident in his voice. "How am I supposed to do this?" Michael sighed, turning and stalking out of the room. He stormed down the hall and into his office, slamming the door behind him. The bang echoed through the house and Roman jumped in Sara's arms again, tensing his body with more fright.

"Linc...Linc no shout," Roman said in a watery gargle, his breath hitching in his throat as he sat up and looked around the room contently. "Linc no shout," he sighed with a hitching sob.

"That's right. . ." Sara murmured, continuing to stroke his hair. "Uncle Linc doesn't shout, does he? Daddy didn't used to either." She paused, kissing his cheek again. "Daddy's sorry, baby." She hoisted him up and carried him into the kitchen, sitting him down on the counter. "Who wants some juice and cookies?"

Michael stormed around his office, slamming draws and throwing pens around the room. He needed to vent. He needed hit something. He felt like he did before and he didn't like it. It was making him more angry thinking about it, and he picked up his desk tidy and slammed it into the wall with a crash. Pens flew everywhere and he panted with anger, running his hands through his hair and backing into the wall with a bump. He slid down to the floor, hiding his head between his knees and emotion took him over as a sob escaped him.

Sara heard a crash from Michael's office and put on her best smile when Roman glanced towards her, startled. She spun the cap on his cup and handed him his apple juice. "It's okay, buddy." Opening the cabinet she took out a peanut butter cookie and handed it to him, lifting him off the counter and setting him on the floor.

Michael lifted his head and slammed it into the wall behind him. He let his eyes flutter closed and wiped the tear from his eye, sniffing a little. It was like all the anger left him in his tears and he was a different person. Just like that, and he had never felt so much remorse in his life. "Who I am?" he said quietly to himself, rubbing his eyes.

Roman's cookie had seemed to calm him down more than anything and Sara had let him back into the living room, putting his favorite DVD in the player. He had grabbed his favorite pillow and was sprawled out on his blanket, humming along to the music that came from the TV. Every few seconds he would glance to the couch to make sure his mommy was still there watching him. Sara smiled as he bobbed his head and kicked his feet, attempting to sing along with the song.

After a few more minutes, Roman nodded off to sleep. After making sure he was really out Sara draped a blanket over his tiny body and kissed his cheek. Letting out a sigh she walked back to Michael's office, knocking on the door.

Michael rolled his head across the wall and looked at the shadow of Sara moving outside under the door. He let his eyes close again and sighed. "Leave me alone," he whispered weakly.

Ignoring his request, Sara pushed the door open. She left it open a crack so she could hear Roman if he cried out. Pens and papers were scattered every where. Letting out a quiet sigh, she leaned against the wall, glancing over to his slumped form. "We need to talk."

"Okay, so talk," Michael muttered, not looking at her but finding a loose thread on his jeans much more interesting.

Sara glanced away, folding her arms in front of her. "Tell me what happened." She cleared her throat. "I have never seen him so scared or upset!"

Michael sighed again. "Roman wanted to play, so I offered to play with him. Then he wanted Linc and i told him he was busy. And then he threw his toy and i got it back for him and then he threw it again in a tantrum and it hit me in the head," Michael said quickly, his series of events a clear as day in his mind. "And then..." he paused, taking a gulp of shame. "...And then I..."

Sara smoothed her hands over the legs of her jeans. She waited for a second for him to continue and when he didn't, she nodded slowly. "And then you lost it."

Michael looked up to her, fear etched across his features. "Sara, I am so sorry. I don't know what happened," he said, looking down at his hands. "This isn't me. You have to believe me when I tell you, I would never hurt Roman."

Sara shrugged, standing up straight and starting to pace around the room. "Did you hit him? How hard did you grab him?" She paused, trying to keep her voice low. "Did you want to hit him? Did you think about it? What if I hadn't come home?"

"I never touched him," Michael said in a low voice. He looked away from her and the hot sting of tears welled up in his throat and burnt behind his eyes. "I wanted to..." he murmured sadly. "...I wanted to and I don't know if I could have stopped myself," he blinked, his tears trailing a hot line down his cheeks.

"Fuck, Michael. . ." Sara leaned against the desk and shook her head. She couldn't look at him. "What does that. . . how am I supposed to. . ." She took a deep breath. "He's your baby."

"You don't think I know that!" he spat through gritted teeth. "You don't think I hate myself enough without the guilty lecture?"

"Well, what do you want me to say, Michael!" Sara stood and tossed her hands out. "Do you want me to stand here and baby you? To tell you that it's okay that you treated him that way? What do you want from me!"

Michael jumped to his feet and closed the gap between them. "I want you're help!" he yelled at her desperately. He felt his voice crack with more emotion and he lowered his head as he started to cry. "Help me," he begged her, dropping his knees and looking up at her with watery eyes. "I know, in my heart, this is more than LLI," he sniffed. "So please..." he gulped. "Help me."

Sara took a deep breath and knelt down beside him. "Michael, what do you think. . ." Slowly, she reached out, squeezing his arm. "What can I do?"

Michael shuffled towards her and reached out for her face, holding it in her hands and hurriedly brushing his thumbs over her cheeks. "Please don't hate me," he pleaded, shaking his head frantically. "Just...please..." he babbled with a quivering voice.

"I don't hate you. I don't hate you, Michael. I could never, never hate you, okay?" Sara dropped her tone to a soothing one and placed her hands over his. "I love you. More than anything. But. . . I think we should stop trying."

"Okay," he whispered weakly. "Okay," he repeated, resting his forehead to hers. "I need help, Sara. I need saving," he sobbed, his chest heaving with hitching breath. "I love you," he whispered, letting his eyes flicker closed.

"I love you," Sara whispered, brushing her lips across his cheek. "We'll get you whatever you need, Michael. I just. . ." She paused. "I love you no matter what, okay?"

Michael just nodded and let his hands fall from her face to his lap. He rubbed one shaky hand across his eyes and inhaled deeply. "I'm sorry, Sara. I really didn't mean to let you down," he said slowly, not looking at her.

Sara sighed and shook her head. She cupped his face in her hands and gave him a weak smile. "It's going to okay, Michael. We'll make it okay. We always do. I promise."

"And Roman?" he asked carefully, meeting her gaze again. "He is so scared of me...of his own father," he said, disgusted at the word on his tongue. In his opinion, it was a name he didn't deserve.

Sara bit her bottom lip and shrugged, pulling away slightly. "You'll just have to talk to him when he wakes up, okay? You'll just have to try." She leaned back on her heels and sighed.

Michael nodded, holding his head that still thumped aggressively. "I can try," he agreed, pushing himself to his feet. "I need some pain killers," he said slowly, leaving the study and padding silently to the kitchen.

Sara sighed, walking to the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. She stood, staring at herself in the mirror, trying to figure out what to do. A moment later, she heard the distinct wake-up cry of her son.

Roman sat up on his blanket, glancing around the living room. His bottom lip quivered and he rubbed his eyes sleepily before he let out a long wail.

"Sara?" Michael poked is head around the corner and met her gaze in the mirror. "Roman wants you," he said sadly, looking down to the floor as he leant against the door frame.

Sara gave him a look and retreated back to the living room, wondering if he would follow her. She found Roman sitting up on his blanket, wailing into his hands. When she entered the room he held out his arms, "Mommy noooo bye-bye!"

Leaning down, Sara scooped him up into her arms. "Mommy didn't go baby!" She brushed his hair away from his forehead as he sniffled. "Did someone wake up cranky?"

Michael walked past the kitchen and leant against the corner of the lounge door, his arms crossed. He was just watching Sara with a small smile, but a pang of sadness in his heart. He longed for his son to love him as much as he did his mother but he knew it would take time for him to trust him again. Michael had well and truly broken that trust.

Sara bounced Roman on her hip, leaning over and pucking her lips. He giggled and pressed his hands to her cheeks, kissing her smack on the mouth. Roman finally took notice of Michael's frame in the doorway and glanced back and forth between his mommy and daddy, growing quiet. "Daddy mad?"

"No, baby..." Michael shook his head and took a few steps towards Sara and Roman. "...Daddy isn't mad. Daddy is so sorry," he soothed, stopping a few feet from them when Roman began to make panicked grasps at Sara's shoulders and turned his head away from Michael. "It's okay," Michael said softly. "I'll stand right here."

Sara rubbed her hand up and down Roman's back soothingly. "See, baby, Daddy's not mad. It's all okay." Roman let out a quiet sigh and glanced back to Michael. Sara pressed another kiss to his head. "Daddy's sorry. It's okay."

Roman sucked on his bottom lip for a minute then laid his head on Sara's shoulder, keeping his gaze trained on Michael. "Me no bad."

Michael shook his head and took another step towards them. "No, Ro. You're not," he smiled sweetly, pushing his hands into his pockets and looking up at Sara who rocked their son side to side. "Is he okay?" Michael whispered to her, turning his gaze back to the half sleepy Roman and giving him another soft smile.

"He's okay," Sara murmured, pressing another kiss to Roman's head. "Aren't you, little man?" She continued to rock him and smiled softly at Michael. "Do you love Daddy?"

Roman nodded his head against Sara. He tangled one hand in Sara's hair and held the other one out towards Michael.

Michael pulled his hand from his pocket and reached out to Roman, letting him grab at his fingers and hold on tightly. Michael finally closed the gap between them and sighed with relief, letting his lips find Roman's soft black hair and his hands find Sara's back. He held them both silently, smoothing his hands over Roman's back and whispering how much he loved him in his tiny, pink ears.

Sara smiled softly, placing a kiss to the side of Roman's head. She glanced from Michael to Roman. "Hmm. We have a very forgiving little boy, don't we?" She jostled him on her hip and he let out a quiet giggle. "I think he gets that from his mommy!"

"I'd second that," Michael smiled at her softly, leaning in for a kiss. He let his lips linger and Roman giggled, watching them with a wide grin before he pressed his finger to the mole on the side of Michael's head. "Ow!" Michael feigned pain, ducking from his son's hand when he tried again. "Oh no! It's the Roman!" he cried, falling backwards onto the couch while Roman giggled hysterically and jumped up and down in Sara's arms.

Sara smirked and leaned over, placing Roman on Michael's chest. Roman let out another slew of giggles and relaxed on his daddy's chest, letting out a content sigh. This was the daddy he liked. Sara laughed quietly, staring down at them, "There's my boys."

Michael wrapped his arms around Roman and tickled his sides while he made roaring noises into his neck. Roman shrugged his shoulders and tried to stop Michael but it was no use and the boy squeaked as he tried to hold his laughter in with a tensed body. Michael pulled his face from Roman's neck and stilled his hands on his sides. Roman pushed himself up to look down at his father and Michael inhaled deeply, making Roman tense again before he dived into the boy's neck again and tickled him until he couldn't laugh anymore.


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the Scofeels train!

Sara unhooked Roman from his car seat and tried to remove him as best as she could without waking him up. Michael was in meetings all day, and she and Roman had just arrived at Lincoln's. She had been doing her best to keep a calm demeanor all morning. But she was finally failing. Cradling Roman's heavy, sleeping figure to her she walked up to Lincoln's door. She knocked softly and sniffed. Michael had been doing good, he hadn't yelled at Roman again. But she still wasn't okay with what she had found out that morning.

Lincoln pulled the door open and peered into the sunshine with a squint. He had just got up, having laid in for most of the morning because of the cold he was trying to fight off. Most of his symptoms had subsided but his muscles were still weak and achy. "Sara?" Lincoln rasped surprised. He yawned and rubbed his eyes lazily. "You never called. Come in," he whispered and pulled the door open wider and motioned her in.

"Hey. . ." Sara trailed off. She bit her bottom lip and glanced away from Lincoln. Kissing Roman's head she whispered. "Can I lay him down somewhere?"

Lincoln pointed down the hall to the end room. "Yeah sure," he frowned a little with thought. "His room is the second on the right, right after mine," he smiled.

Sara carried Roman down the hallway and laid him down. Quickly covering him up, she brushed his lips across his forehead then went back out into the living room. She crossed her arms. "I'm pregnant."

Lincoln almost spat his coffee across the lounge at her revelation. "You're what?" he asked shocked, placing his steaming mug of coffee back down on the coffee table. "Does Michael know?"

"No, Michael doesn't know. I just. . . I just took the test this morning." Sara sighed and sank down into the couch, shaking her head. "I don't know what to do, Linc. I mean, we agreed to stop trying. . . and now. . ."

Lincoln picked up his coffee and offered it to her with a grin. "So it's mine, right?"

Sara shook her head and waved the coffee away. She smiled a little at his joke and started to talk but a sob caught in her throat. She leaned forward, putting her head in her hands. "He's gonna be so mad."

"Hey..." Lincoln soothed gently, pushing himself to his feet and moving to pull her into a quick hug. He tightened his grip around her body, letting her cry into his shirt while he tucked her head under his chin.  
"Why would he be mad?"

"Because we. . ." Sara sniffled. Nothing was going like they had planned. "Because of everything that's going on. Michael hardly wants to be left alone with Roman. I just barely convinced him it'll be okay." She let out another sob. "I don't even know what he'll think when I tell him we're having another baby. Especially after I told him we should stop trying."

"He won't be mad," Lincoln assured her, pulling her down beside him on the couch. "He'll be scared..." Lincoln pointed out, rolling his head across the cushions to face her. "...but he won't be mad."

"Yes, he will." Sara wiped her eyes and shook her head, sniffing loudly. "He is going to flip out, Lincoln. You know him."

"I do know him," Lincoln nodded. "I know he loves you, and he would do anything for you. You shouldn't worry so much," Lincoln shrugged.

Sara closed her eyes briefly and shrugged. "I can't believe we've been trying for so long and when we decide to stop. . . I'm pregnant." She took a deep breath. "I just think.. . ." She trailed off as the doorbell rang.

Lincoln whipped his head over the back of the couch, stretching to see the shadow behind the glass. "Hold that thought..." he said, pushing himself to his feet and bouncing to the front door. He pulled it open and blinked. "Michael?"

"Hey," Michael greeted slowly. "Can I come in?" Michael asked, moving to put his foot in the front door. Lincoln didn't let it open and stammered. He knew Sara really wasn't ready to talk to Michael, and besides, he should have been at work.

"Now's not a good time," Lincoln said quietly, trying to warn off his brother. Michael looked him up and down, noticing he was still in his pajama pants and an old t-shirt that was crinkled from being grabbed.

Sara sniffled and pushed up from the couch. She walking towards the door, but couldn't see who was there since Lincoln's bulky figure was blocking it. She wiped at her eyes. "Linc, who is it? Should we go?"

Michael frowned a little and moved to look around his brother's body. "Sara?"

Sara furrowed her eyebrows and squinted at him. "Michael? I thought you were at work."

"I thought you were at home," Michael said slowly, eyeing Lincoln suspiciously. Lincoln looked between Michael and Sara and gripped at the doorknob nervously. Michael looked at Lincoln again, staring at him intensely while he coughed and shook his head.

"Mike..." Lincoln began, trying to dissuade Michael from confronting Sara.

"You bastard!" Michael said on a deep breath, his voice low and almost an angry growl as he lunged through the doorway at Lincoln. Lincoln grabbed Michael's wrists, trying desperately to pull his hands from his throat as they stumbled backward into the house.

"Michael!" Sara snapped, stepping forward and trying to grab his arm. "Michael, stop it. What are you doing? Be quiet. Roman is asleep. Why did you lie to me about where you were?"

Michael shrugged Sara off and pushed his brother against the wall. Lincoln hit a photo frame with a thud, his shoulder blade instantly stinging from the pointy part sticking into his skin. "God...Michael..." he gasped, trying to wiggle from his brother's hands. "What are you doing?"

Michael pulled one of his hands back and his clenched fist hit Lincoln in the mouth, splitting his lip. "How could you!" he shouted. "To your own brother!"

"Michael!" Sara managed to wiggle her way between the two brothers, pushing Michael off. "Michael Scofield. Look at me!" She paused, trying to catch her breath, keeping both her hands on Michael's arms. "Michael. What do you think you're doing?"

Michael growled to himself, his blood boiling in his ears and muffling Sara's voice. He pushed against her body, trying to get to Lincoln who stood against the wall, rubbing his reddened neck and coughing quietly. He pressed his hand to his lip and tasted blood in his mouth. Michael's fists were balled up and his jaw was tightly locked, twitching under his skin.

"Michael. . ." Sara softened her voice and took his head in her hands turning his face so he was looking into her eyes. "Baby. . ." She brushed her thumb across his cheek. "Baby, what are you doing?"

Michael blinked, looking down at her quickly and then back to his brother. "I...uh..." he stuttered, confused. His brow furrowed and he shook his head gently. "I don't know..." he admitted. "I thought..."

Sara turned back to Linc, "Can you go check on Roman for me, please?" When Lincoln was out of the room, Sara turned back to Michael, keeping her hands on his face. She continued her soft stroke of his cheek and took a deep breath. "We need to talk, Michael."

"I'm sorry, Sara..." Michael breathed, gripping her wrists and feeling the sting of tears in his eyes. "Look at me, I'm crying and I don't know why," he laughed weakly. "What's wrong with me?" Michael sobbed, lowering his head until his forehead rested on Sara's chest.

Sara smoothed her hands over Michael's back, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Oh, Michael. . . oh, baby. . ." She moved her hand up to his neck, squeezing it gently. "It's gonna be okay."

"Sara, I just tried to strangle my brother because I thought..." he bit his tongue, stopping his words. Was Sara having an affair? Was Roman even his child? He preferred Lincoln after all. His mind raced and he gripped to the side of his head to block out the voices. "...make it stop...make it stop," he chanted stepping back away from her.

"Michael! Michael. . ." Sara stepped towards him, taking one of his hands in hers. She squeezed it gently. "You know what? We're going to make it stop, okay? We're going to go to the doctor or the hospital or wherever and we're going to find out how to make it stop."

Michael looked up slowly, letting his hands fall from his head. He looked broken, fatigued and was the walking definition of troubled soul. "Promise?" he sniffed, gulping a teary lump down his throat.

"Yes, I promise," Sara brushed her lips across his cheek and pulled him back towards her. "I promise, Michael. We're going to figure it out. This isn't you, okay?"

"When?" Michel asked quickly. "I don't want to be this way anymore. I want to hold my son and not feel scared that the slightest thing will make me angry."

"We'll go today," Sara whispered. "We'll go right now if you want to, okay?" She pulled Michael's face towards hers, pressing her forehead against his. "I love you."

"I love you too," Michael whispered, clutching at her hands pressed to his cheeks.

An hour later they were seated in a room at the hospital. The waiting room was packed, but due to the fact Sara had worked there, they had gotten right back. They had done a few blood tests already, and they were getting ready to take him for x-rays and his CAT scan. Taking a deep breath, Sara took Michael's hand in hers. "How do you feel?"

Michael gripped at Sara's hand and traced his thumb over her wedding band. "I'm a little scared. But thanks for believing in me...not writing me off as crazy," he smiled. His arms ached from the blood tests, his skin already beginning to bruise and he was getting slightly agitated having to wait for a doctor to come and talk to him.

"I know you're not crazy, Michael. You know I'm always here for you. . ." She brought his hand up and brushed her lips across his knuckles. "And everything is going to be okay. We'll find out what's going on and we'll take care of it." A million things ran through her mind, and she didn't want to think of what it could possibly be. There were too many bad things. "This morning we were watching one of Roman's movies and he asked if we could go to the beach. I told him we'd have to ask Daddy."

"The beach?" Michael asked a little amused by his son's never ending supply of questions. "You know daddy is going to say yes, right? As soon as he is all patched up and fit for duty."

"I figured Daddy would say yes," Sara smirked. "I thought I'd let him ask you anyway though." She held onto his hand tighter, "You know how much I love you, right? I'm sorry if I've been aggravated lately."

Before she could say anything else, a doctor she didn't recognize entered the room. "Mr. Scofield! It's good to meet you. I'm Dr. Rollins."

Michael extended his hand to the tall, slim man with short, tightly cropped brown hair and shook it eagerly. "Nice to meet you too," he smiled. Pulling his hand back he motioned towards Sara. "This is my wife, Sara."

"Sara," Dr. Rollins nodded. "I've been told you used to work here? It's nice to meet you." He rolled up a chair, smiling at Michael. "They tell me you've been having some problems. I've been looking at the scans they took last time you were here, and I want to take some more before I jump to any immediate conclusions. But I'm fairly certain diagnosing your problem will be easy."

Sara leaned forward in her chair. "You mean they missed something when he was here?"

"I'm sorry," Michael said shyly. "I don't remember much of my last visit," he shrugged.

"I do," Sara murmured, standing up. She squeezed his arm and glanced to Dr. Rollins, raising her voice a bit. "Someone messed up?"

Dr. Rollins paused. "It looks that way. But how about we get you back to x-ray and find out, Michael. Can I call you Michael?"

"Sure," Michael smiled with a nod. He liked the doctor. He wasn't old and he wasn't young and he sounded like he knew exactly what needed to be done with minimally required tests, that would waste time and money. Michael turned to Sara, leaning closer to her. "Will you come with me?" he pleaded in a childlike tone, reaching for her hand.

Sara paused, her breath catching in her throat. She knew very well she couldn't go into the x-ray room. Anyone pregnant was advised against going in without protection. She leaned over, kissing his head. "How about while you go get that done I'll call and check on our boy? I'm sure he wonders where we went. And Linc will want to know how you're doing."

"Okay," Michael said softly, pulling her to him for a kiss. "I'll see you soon?"

"Of course you will," Sara leaned over, meeting his lips in a kiss. She smirked at the doctor before leaving the room. "Keep an eye on him. He's a runner."

Dr. Rollins smiled at Michael. "Is that so?"

Michael looked at the doctor innocently. "A long time ago, in another place..." he smirked at Sara, giving her a wave as she exited his cubicle and disappeared from view. "So...this rage thing..." Michael asked the doctor seriously. "It's not normal, right?"

"No, it's not normal," Dr. Rollins shook his head and motioned for Michael to get in the wheelchair so he could be rolled to radiology. "Especially for someone with the kind of misdemeanor you have. You feel ashamed after the outbursts, right? I've seen this a couple times before."

"Yes, and I don't always...um...remember why it happened?" Michael said slowly, shifting from the bed into the leather seat of the wheelchair.

Dr. Rollins began to push the wheelchair, nodding slowly. "Have they been coming more often? When was the last episode?"

"More often than never?" Michael laughed nervously. "The last one was...today. About two hours ago. I...uh...my brother got in the way this time," he said sadly, looking down to his lightly bruised knuckles.

Dr. Rollins nodded slowly, turning Michael into the room. "Can you get up on the table for me, Michael?" When Michael did as he said, Dr. Rollins turned his penlight on and shone it in his eyes. "Huh. You're wife's not had experience with neurology, has she?"

"I don't think so," Michael frowned, resting his hands together between his knees. "I don't think she had a specialty in medicine. She just wanted to help people."

Dr. Rollins nodded, placing his hand on Michael's shoulder and pushing him down, guiding him into the position he needed him in. "Don't let her beat herself up for not catching this. I know how wives can be." Giving Michael a grin, he walked out of the room so he could monitor him as the machine ran.

Michael laid flat, taking a few deep breaths and the machine whirred to life and clonked loudly a few times. Judging by her reaction to someone having missed something last time he was here, Michael highly doubted Sara's first thought was to blame herself. She would be setting her sights on bigger fish.

Sara hung up with Lincoln and hurried back to the hallway where she knew Michael would come out when he was done.

Dr. Rollins watched as Michael's scan came up on the screen. "Huh," he muttered to himself. "Just like I thought."

When the x-ray was done, Michael hopped off the table and back into his wheelchair, waiting for the doctor to return. When he did, he looked up at him expectantly. "Anything?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I think so," Dr. Rollins pushed him out into the hall, finding Sara waiting there. "I don't quite have everything I need though. How do you feel about getting a CT done?"

"A CT?" Michael reached out for Sara's hand and pulled her closer to him. The prospect of a big, expensive machine taking detailed photographs of his brain frightened him. "Isn't a CT for someone with a head injury?"

"Well, you had a head injury at one point and --" Dr. Rollins was cut off by Sara.

"Michael. You're going to do whatever he says and not argue with him." She smiled at the doctor. "He thinks a CT sounds fun!"

"Sure do!" Michael agreed with a fake jolliness that made the doctor laugh. "Is there a waiting time for that?" Michael asked, feeling slightly tired.

"About two hours," Dr. Rollins nodded. "Did I hear you say you had a little boy? I do too. His name is Cameron and he's about to turn two." He smiled at Sara and motioned to Michael. "Maybe someone would feel better if they had a little visitor?"

"No," Michael said quickly, turning to face the doctor with a shake of his head. "No," he breathed, turning away to face Sara. "Don't bring Roman here, please," he said with a shaky voice.

Sara glanced at him, tilting her head to the side. "Are you sure? Linc said he kept asking for you."

"I'm sure," Michael nodded weakly. "I'm a little tired and...there's no warning, Sara, you know?" he said a little scared of what might happen if Roman was there. "You can go to him if you like."

"No," Sara shook her head as Dr. Rollins wheeled Michael into the room. He nodded at them, telling them he'd go schedule Michael in. Sara reached for his hand, letting him lean on her as he moved back to the bed. "I want to be here with you."

"Are you sure?" Michael asked, sliding back onto the bed. "I'm not as cute," he smirked with a chuckle. Sara's face barely turned up into a smile as she busied herself with smoothing down the hospital blanket covering his bed. "Sara...Sara, are you okay?" Michael asked softly, tilting his head to watch her and saying her name twice to catch her attention.

"Huh?" Sara snapped her head up to look at him. She took a step closer, resting her hand on his knee. "Did you say something?"

"I said..." Michael repeated slowly, taking in her worried expression. "...are you okay?" he said smoothly. "Something is up. I know it," he deduced.

"I'm just worried about you, baby," Sara forced a smile, leaning in to kiss him. "Really I. . . I just don't want to make you more stressed right now."

"So something is wrong," Michael said softly, smoothing his fingertip up her forearm. "Sara, please tell me. Don't shut me out," he begged, using his other hand to cup her face. Sara looked away from him and he moved his head to follow her gaze. "Baby...?"

"Michael. . ." Sara sank down on the bed next to him and sighed. She hesitated for a second and kept her gaze down. "I'm pregnant."

"Oh..." Michael froze, gulping an uncomfortable obstruction down his throat. He looked away from her too, averting his gaze to something a little less distracting. Like the fluff stuck to the end of his socks. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out and he flopped back against the pillows with a sigh. He flattened his hands together like he was praying and pressed them to his lips. "How long have you known?"

"I've expected it for. . . about a week now?" Sara finally looked up at him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "But I, uh. . . I just took a test this morning. We're uh. . . we're having a baby."

"But...but we stopped trying," Michel said naively.

"Michael. . ." Sara bit the inside of her mouth and smirked. "It's not like we stopped having sex. We just used protection. And I think. . ." She cleared her throat. "I think I'm farther along than that anyway?"

Michael looked up at her with a quirked eyebrow. "How far along?" He smirked. He leaned closer to her, shooting a glance around to the door, in case it was pulled open. "Dirty talking...?" he said simply, giggling a little when she broke into a smile. "Sara?" he said softly, catching her attention. "I'm okay with this," he nodded. "I'm happy."

"Dirty talking," Sara couldn't help but smile. "I think it was our trip back to Italy?" She smoothed her hand over his leg. "Really? You're really okay with this?" Her grin grew wider. "I was so worried, Michael."

"Why would you be worried?" he said before he'd realised what he had said. He changed the subject quickly. "Surely Linc told you I’d be okay with it," he grinned when her head snapped up to look at him. "If it wasn't an affair, it had to be something else big," he shrugged.

Sara smiled softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. "You know I'd never cheat on you. You're my Michael, you're my world, you're my everything. You gave me the best little boy in the world and. . ." She placed a hand over her flat stomach. "Whoever this turns out to be."

Michael flattened his hand over hers and kissed her sweetly. "Hopefully, this is nothing too serious," Michael pointed to his head annoyed. Just as he finished saying what he was saying, a knock at the door preceded a tall, curly-haired nurse popping her head around the doorframe and telling Michael the CT scan had been moved forward.

Sara smiled at the nurse after she informed them Michael would be taken back to radiology. The nurse motioned towards the wheelchair. "I'll take you down, Mr. Scofield. Dr. Rollins is waiting."

“Excellent,” Michael said, hopping from his bed with effort. He plopped into the wheelchair and was about to ask Sara to come with him but he thought better of it. “You can wait here…” he offered. “…Unless…you want to come this time?” he shrugged.

"I can come with you," Sara told him softly, with a slight nod of her head. She followed the nurse down the hallway and towards the elevator. When they stepped inside Sara leaned against the wall and glanced to Michael. "I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted."

Michael leaned back in the wheelchair and turned his head sideways. “Absolutely drained,” he said with a small smile. “However, we should spare a thought for Uncle Linc, who has the boy today,” he smirked evilly.

Sara smirked. "He said Roman woke up the second we left and has been running around non-stop. Plus, I don't think Linc feels too good. . . we owe him one." The elevator made a loud dinging and the doors opened. The nurse pushed Michael out and Sara followed them back towards the radiology wing.

The wheelchair bumped on the edge of the elevator floor as the nurse pushed Michael from the metal box. Radiology was more than just fancy x-rays and kids with broken arms. It was home to the large, loud and expensive CT and MRI scanners. The nurse wheeled Michael into the room and motioned for Sara to enter the viewing booth where Dr. Rollins was waiting, staring at a blank monitor. Michael did as he was asked and climbed onto the table, suddenly feeling a little tensed when he was strapped down to the sliding gurney and gently moved into the hollow cylinder of the machine.

Sara eyed Dr. Rollins then let her gaze travel to the machinery. "Do you think this is something serious?" She did her best to put on a professional tone. "I mean, I know there are a lot of things that can affect someone's personality. Things like. . . tumors."

Dr. Rollins gave her a sympathetic smile, then shook his head slowly. "I don't think what we're dealing with is something quite that serious, Sara."

Michael heard the nurse leave the room and it fell silent. He tried not to move like he had been instructed to and he was aware that the viewing room could hear him at all times. He let our a long breath, his leg twitching as he waited nervously. He heard a click and the muffled voice of Dr. Rollins.

“Michael, we need you to lie still, okay?” he said calmly and Michael could tell he was smiling. Michael gulped hard and stopped his leg moving.

“Sorry,” he said in a choked voice, coughing to clear his throat afterward. A few seconds later, the loud banging sound came from the machine as it began to take pictures of Michael’s skull.

Sara watched as the scan came up onto the screen. Dr. Rollins made a quiet noise and she glanced over to him. "Do you see something?"

Dr. Rollins clicked the large, circular mouse a few times and squinted at the screen with a finger to his twisted mouth. “Which side of Michael’s head was hit by the forklift?” he asked, not looking up from the screen.

Sara tried to gage Dr. Rollins reaction to the picture. "The left side."

“Hmm…” the doctor frowned and continued clicking through the stills, focusing on the left side. “See this part of the brain?” he asked her, placing his finger on the central part of the image. “That is called the cingulate cortex,” he looked up at her to make sure she was following him. “The left side shows some damage, most likely from Michael’s accident.”

"Some damage?" Sara repeated, her voice rising just slightly. "What kind of damage. Irreparable damage?" She cleared her throat. "It's why he's been acting this way. . ."

“Well, in theory, damage to this part of the brain should cause a loss of anger…” Dr. Rollins said. His finger shifted over the image to point at a part of the same area that was slightly darkened. “See how this part of the lobe has become dark?” he said to Sara.

"Right," Sara murmured under her breath. She was beginning to get a headache and felt slightly nauseous. "Can you fix it? I mean, easily?"

Dr. Rollins sat back in his chair and looked at her sadly. “Sara, if Michael has damage to this part of his brain, and can be diagnosed with what I suspect he has, it can’t be fixed,” he said slowly. “But we can control its function, okay?” he asked her softly.

Michael felt hot and looked around him. He jumped back in surprise when he felt a slimy substance touch his face, hitting the other side of the machine. “Michael?” Dr. Rollins voice echoed into the room but Michael ignored his name on the man’s voice. “Get it off! Get it off!” Michael screamed, wiggling against the Velcro straps of the gurney and banging his head into the raised platform pillow with frustration.

“Michael, lay still…we are coming,” Dr. Rollins tried to sooth Michael through his hallucination. “Shut it down!” he called to the nurse who slammed her hand onto a red button.

“It’s on me! Sara!” Michael called sweaty as he stared in horror at the empty space on his shoulder. Moving to sit up desperately, he smashed his head on the low roof of the scanning tunnel and passed out in the machine.

Dr. Rollins quickly stepped from the room and motioned to Sara. "You stay there." He walked into the CAT scan room and motioned to the nurse to push the button that would send Michael out of the machine. When Michael slowly came out, Dr. Rollins reached for him, checking his pulse.

Sara stood watching, leaning over against the counter. She wasn't sure if she felt like crying or throwing up, or a mixture of both. She needed to breathe. Moving out of the room, she went to go call Lincoln.

“Roman…no, don’t stick that…Ah…boy! Hello?” Lincoln said slightly agitated as he hurled Roman over his shoulder to stop him sticking things into his DVD player. The boy let out a hearty giggle that resonated down the phone line to Sara.

A grin broke out on Sara's face as she heard Roman laughing. "Hey, Linc. Is he giving you hell?" If there was one thing that was for sure, it was that Roman never stopped going.

Lincoln let out a grunt as Roman shifted and his knee bashed Lincoln in the side of the head. “You could say that…” he grumbled. “How’s Michael?”

"There's something wrong with his brain," Sara blurted out before she could stop herself. She pressed her fingers to her forehead and shook her head slowly. "I mean. . . " She took a deep breath. "It was caused by the accident and apparently it's irreparable. Possibly controllable, but irreparable. Linc. . . Do you think you can come? Just for a little while. Michael said he didn't want Roman here but we don't have to take him back to see him. I just need someone here."

Lincoln’s world turned into slow motion and his mouth went dry. “Michael’s brain damaged?” he said quietly, gulping afterward. He couldn’t be. His little baby brother was not irreparable. “I uh…” He stuttered, sitting down on the couch and letting his grip on Roman loosen just enough for the boy to wiggle free and bounce up and down next to him giggling. “…I’ll be right there.”

"Thank you. . ." Sara let out a quiet breath. "Um, I'm not going to tell Michael you're coming until you're here, okay? Bring Roman some toys, okay? I think there's a packet of animal crackers in his bag. Check and see. Did you feed him today? Do you have apple juice? Should I go up to the cafeteria and get him some?" Sara knew she was babbling, but she didn't know how to stop.

“Sara…” Lincoln stopped her with a firm voice. “Sara, listen to me. Michael is going to be fine, okay? I wouldn’t let anything ever happen to you guys, okay?” he said, pulling Roman to him for a much-detested hug. “Sara…” Lincoln said her name again when she fell silent. “Don’t worry about Ro. I got him under control. You go to Michael.”

Sara nodded slowly, even though Lincoln couldn't see her. "Yeah. I, ah. . . I'll see you soon. Give Roman a kiss for me, okay?" She hung up and took a deep breath, walking back to radiology.

“And touch your nose for me…” Dr. Rollins asked Michael as he shone a bright white torch into his eyes and moved his finger in front of his face. Michael was sat up, perched on the edge of the machine in his gown with a pink bump on his forehead. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Uh…”Michael blushed, feeling ridiculous. “There was something on my shoulder…”

“What did it look like?” Dr. Rollins asked softly as he took Michael’s pulse for the third time. It had steadily been reducing and was nearly at normal.

Michael was a little confused by the question. “I know it wasn’t real…” he said to the doctor.

“Do you?” Dr. Rollins smiled, moving to Michael’s side to listen to his chest. “Inhale…” he commanded and Michael did so, holding his breath and releasing it slowly. When the doctor removed his stethoscope he finished talking. “Did you ten minutes ago?”

Michael was taken back by the question. Truthfully he genuinely believed what was on his shoulder was real. In all his green, oozing glory, it had been burning his shoulder, melting the gown and scorching his skin like acid. He looked over to where it had appeared. “You had a hallucination, Michael,” Dr. Rollins confirmed for him as a nurse showed Sara into the room.

Sara walked into the room slowly, forcing a smile. She walked over towards Michael, then looked to Dr. Rollins. "How are we doing?"

“Good,” Dr. Rollins said, moving away from the couple as he scribbled some notes onto Michael’s chart.

Michael tilted his head apologetically at her and reached for her hand. “I knocked myself out,” he said with a slight chuckle, pointing to the bump on his forehead. “Hurts like hell,” he said slowly, looking up toward his forehead with furrowed brows.

“I have a diagnosis,” Dr. Rollins announced. “I am excited, Michael. You are only the second case I have ever heard of, and the first I have ever seen.”

Sara took Michael's hand in hers and gripped it firmly. She looked towards Dr. Rollins, clearing her throat. "You're excited that he has brain damage you can't fix?!"

“Sara…” Michael hushed her with a surprised expression.

"It's quite alright," Dr. Rollins held up a hand and shook his head. "It's not necessarily irreparable, Sara. We can give Michael medication. . . or we can do surgery."

“I’m sorry,” Michael shook his head stopping the talk with a splayed hand. “What are we even talking about? Is it a tumor?” he asked nervously, his cheeks blushing pink when he thought he might never see his children grow up.

Dr. Rollins gave him a small reassuring smile. “I’m sorry, Michael,” he said, stepping toward him. “You have what is known as Episodic Dyscontrol Syndrome or Limbic Rage,” Michael starred at him with a blank look.

“Which is…?” he coaxed, squeezing Sara’s hand tighter when the long name scared him. Dr. Rollins continued.

“It is a secondary effect of your accident. You’ve damaged the front lobe of a section of your brain and it is causing your rage, paranoia, hallucinations. Michael,” he said eagerly, stepping towards him. “With pills, it can be treated, and there is pioneering surgery that can cure it.”

Before Michael could say anything else, Sara stepped in. "You said there's only been one other case, right? And you've never seen this. So you've never done this surgery before." She turned to Michael. "I think it's a bad idea."

“Mrs. Scofield,” Dr. Rollins interrupted again before Michael could say anything. “With all due respect, there have been many cases of EDS being treated successfully. I have only ever seen one at this hospital, and it was a surgical candidate who was cured one hundred percent.”

Sara crossed her arms. "But there are risks with any surgery?" She turned back to Michael. "What about Roman? What about me? This is brain surgery, Michael."

“Mr. Scofield,” Dr. Rollins addressed him formally in the hopes he could gain his respect. “As far as I can see you have an advanced form of EDS. You are showing three of the more serious symptoms and pills would only control it, not stop it.”

“Okay, enough!” Michael bellowed in the room, holding up both his hand to silence them both. “I need to think…” he sighed, burying his face in his hands and rubbing his hands over his scalp.

Sara sighed and moved back closer to Michael. She rubbed her hand slowly over his back. The pills would only control it, not stop it. She couldn't imagine living the rest of their lives half-scared of Michael. She lowered her voice. "It's up to you, baby. Whatever you think is best, okay?"

Michael looked up into her eyes. He could tell she was scared, not only for herself but for Roman. He took her hands in his and smoothed his thumbs over her knuckles, keeping her eye contact and gulping hard. He offered her a weak smile and moved to rest a flat, open palm to her flat stomach. “Can the surgery kill me?” he said sadly, not looking away from Sara but addressing Dr. Rollins.

The doctor watched their silent display of affection and worry. The couple before him reminded him a lot of him and his wife, only they had never seen tragedy. They had never lost hope when dealt a death card. “It has some risks…” Dr. Rollins said slowly.

“I said, can it go wrong, and kill me?” Michael said agitated, his lip quivering as he cupped Sara’s face in his hand with a silent apology.

Dr. Rollins sighed, hugging the chart to his chest. He looked down at his feet briefly. “It carries a hundred percent success rate…” he paused. “…But a forty-five percent mortality rate.” Michael let out a nervous laugh, his mind racing with calculations.

Sara coughed a little when Dr. Rollins told them the mortality rate. She stepped towards Michael, cupping his face in her hands. "Michael, I. . ." She felt a lump form in her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut tightly. She dropped her voice to a whisper. "I don't know what to tell you."

Michael lowered his head and leaned into her touch, gripping her wrists and holding her hands to his face. “Tell me you’d trust me with Roman and our unborn child if I didn’t have the surgery,” he looked up at her with watery eyes, already knowing her answer would be the unmistakable silence of no. “Tell me…” he stopped to take a breath, composing himself. “…Tell me, and I won’t have it,” he sobbed, tears springing from his eyes even more when Sara just stared at him with a face full of sorrow and apologies. Michael sniffed and panted a few times before tearing his gaze from Sara and looking at Dr. Rollins. “Schedule the surgery,” he said firmly.

Sara started to say something, but she choked on a sob. "Michael. . ."

Dr. Rollins nodded slowly and moved towards the door. "How about I give you two a minute?"

Once the door was closed, Sara stepped further into Michael, closing the distance between them. She circled her arms around him and buried her head into his shoulder. "Michael. . . Baby, I. . ."

“Shhh…shhh…” Michael soothed through his own choking tears. “Let me do this,” he begged her quietly. “For you and Roman. For our baby,” he whispered, running his hand over the back of her head and through her slightly curled auburn locks.

"But Michael. . ." Sara shook her head slowly, moving her hand down and running them over his legs. "What if. . . if something goes wrong? I can't. . ." She shook her head harder. "I can't lose you. It's not worth it."

“I’ll wake up, I promise,” he assured her with a grin, pulling her face towards his and resting their foreheads together. “I’ll never leave you,” he shook his head slowly, smoothing his thumbs over her cheeks and wiping away her tears. “Ever,” he whispered.

Sara forced a small smile and took a deep breath. "Okay, Michael. If this is really what you want. . ." She wiped her tears and nodded. "You haven't broken a promise to me yet."

“That’s right,” he said, pressing his lips to hers and letting them linger while he absorbed her feel and flavor, committing them both to memory. A tiny knock on the door alerted them both to Dr. Rollins poking his head around the door frame. Before he could say a word, Michael jumped off the side of the CT machine and headed from the room. “Schedule the surgery,” he said, walking himself back to his room with Sara in tow, their hands clasped together so tightly.


	49. Chapter 49

Sara sat on the chair next to Michael's bed, Roman in her lap. Everyone was completely silent. She hadn't even gone home the night before. Lincoln had brought her a change of clothes and she had showered there. Roman had spent the night with Lincoln and was now more than happy to be with his daddy and mommy.

She hadn't expected them to schedule the surgery so fast. She had thought they would get to take Michael home and get used to the idea first. She hadn't slept a moment the night before. Shifting, she moved Roman on her lap. He smiled up at Michael. "Daddy come home now?"

Michael looked down from his bed to his son who was looking up at him with expectant blue eyes. “No,” he shook his head sadly. “Soon, but not today baby,” he said with a smile, opening his arms and inviting the two year old to crawl up onto his bed.

“He knows something is up,” Lincoln pointed out from where he was perched on the edge of the white blanket at the foot of Michael’s bed.

Sara glanced nervously at Roman who was picking at the pills on the blanket at the foot of Michael's bed. She shifted again in her seat. "How can he not know? Look how we're all acting."

Roman crawled up Michael's legs, positioning himself on his Daddy's lap. "Daddy sick."

Michael wrapped his arm around Roman and pulled him closer. “Yeah, buddy. Daddy is, but you know what?” he said with a cheerful voice.

Roman smiled brightly, pressing a finger to Michael's cheek. "What!?"

“The doctors are going to make Daddy all better,” he grinned playfully. “And then you know what else?”

Roman tilted his head, thinking it over. He turned back to Michael and giggled. "Daddy come home??"

Michael ran his hand over Roman’s forehead, pushing his hair from his brow and pressing his lips to his forehead. He paused briefly; letting his eyes flutter closed as he inhaled the baby scent of his son and imprinted it on his memory. “Daddy come home,” he said softly with a sigh. “But in the mean time, you have to look after mommy, okay? She’s having a baby!” Michael smiled excitedly. “Won’t that be fun?”

Roman glanced from his daddy to his mommy, then to Uncle Linc. Everyone was smiling. Finally, he looked back at Michael, then pointed to himself. "I the baby."

Michael shook his head with a chuckle. “Roman is a big boy now. He is going to be a big brother!” Michael said proudly, tickling Roman’s sides a little. “Big brother’s are way better than babies,” Michael pulled a disgusted face and Roman’s laugh escaped his in a high pitched squeak. “Uncle Linc is a big brother,” Michael added with a point towards his brother.

Sara stood and stepped forward, brushing her hand through Roman's hair. "Mommy's belly is going to get really big!" Roman giggled again and Sara smiled. "And you're baby brother or sister is going to love you sooo much."

She smiled at Michael. "And then when Daddy's all better maybe we can all take a trip to the beach."

“Yeah!” Michael sang lifting Roman off his lap and holding his above the bed. “The beach sounds good, buddy?” Michael asked with a grin.

Roman let out a chorus of happy giggles as Michael held him in the air. He kicked his legs and let out a content sigh when Michael sat him back down. He nodded at his Daddy's question, then leaned him, snuggling to his chest. "I love you."

“Awww…” Michael smiled, tucking Roman’s tiny figure under his chin and wrapping him up in his tattooed arms. “Daddy loves you too, Ro,” he said softly, rocking the boy back and fourth. Michael looked over to Lincoln and then at Sara who was smiling at her son cuddling his father. “Hey, Roman,” Michael said softly and the boy pricked to attention, pushing himself off his father’s body and looking at him with wide eyes. “How about you and Uncle Linc go and get a candy bar?” Michael looked up at Lincoln. “…Or something for ten minutes?”

Roman let out a shriek of delight and reached for Linc. "Caaaaaandy baaaaaar!" Sara rolled her eyes and started to protest, but then thought better of it. She gave Linc a look. "Don't let him eat the whole thing, okay?"

Lincoln stood and Roman’s tiny body ploughed into his at the end of the bed. He scrambled up Lincoln’s body and wrapped his arms around his neck, dangling from his shoulders. Lincoln let out a grunt and swung Roman sideways, reaching behind himself and pressing his hands to his body, holding him to his back. “Don’t let go, okay Ro?” Lincoln said to the boy who nodded and jiggled up and down. “I got it,” Lincoln winked a Sara, giving Michael a small nod before exiting the room.

Michael held out his hand for Sara and gave her a loving look, a thousand words never being able to describe his facial expression language that Sara understood so well. Finally he spoke, his voice soft, soothing and making her forget where they were. “Sara, I love you.”

Sara intertwined their fingers and felt her eyes feel with tears. She brought his hand to her mouth and brushed her fingers over his knuckles. "Oh, baby. I love you so, so much."

“I’m going to wake up,” he said with a breaking voice. “I promise you,” he inhaled deeply with a hitching breath.

"I know. I know you are. . ." Sara took a deep breath and blinked several times as tears filled her eyes. "It's going to be okay. You're going to be good as new."

“Sara…” Michael said, looking down at their hands. “If anything…” he stopped, looking away from her with watery eyes. He gulped hard and felt his bottom lip begin to shake. “…Tell Roman I’ll always watch out for him, okay?”

"Don't say that!" Sara's voice was barely more than a whisper. "Don't say things like that." Her breath hitched in her throat, and she let out a quiet sob, firmly shaking her head. Maybe if they didn't talk about it, maybe if they ignored the fact that there was a chance, a huge chance, Michael might not make it through, all the worry would disappear. She let out another sob, pressing her hand over her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Michael said, pulling her to him and enclosing her in a crushing hug. He pressed his lips to her hair, closing his eyes and exhaling hard. His hand smoothed up her arms as she cried against the cardboard texture of his hospital gown, staining his heart with tears. “I’m sorry…I have every faith in Dr. Rollins,” Michael said slowly, tilting his head back to stop his own tears falling onto her. “There is every chance…just…” Michael gritted his teeth and inhaled hard again, squeezing Sara tighter to his body. “I won’t say goodbye. I won’t,” he promised softly.

Sara leaned into his chest, sobbing for several long moments. Her tears began to dwindle and she pulled away, wiping at her eyes with her sleeves. She gave him a weak smile and cupped his fast, gently smoothing his tears away. Leaving his hands on his cheeks, she leaned in, pressing her forehead to his. "We have made it through entirely too much not to make it through this, Michael." She brushed her fingers down his cheek, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to force away the panic. "Are you sure. . . are you positive you want to do this, baby?"

Michael nodded slowly. “I don’t ever want to be a danger to our children. To you. Never be left alone with them in case I hurt them. Never want to hold you in case I do,” he swallowed a painful lump of burning tears down his throat and panted hard against her face. His eyelids twitched when he closed his eyes, desperately trying to blink away the tears that had formed there. “Sara…” he said her name like he always did. Like a sweet chorus of love and meaning that only she heard. “…I’d rather die trying to stop that than let it happen.”

"Michael. . ." Sara pulled away and waited until he opened his eyes and looked at her. She smiled softly and nodded once. "You know how much I love you, right? How much I have always loved you? How much I will love you forever. . . no matter what." She cleared her throat. "What we have is so, so amazing. The life you've given me, our son. . . it's all something I never thought I deserved or would ever get to have. Have I ever thanked you? Have I shown you how much you mean to me?"

Michael gripped at her hands to the side of his face and smiled weakly. “Sara, stop it,” he cried, his voice cracking with each word. “Stop…saying goodbye,” he begged her with a tiny voice. “Stop…”

"I just. . ." Sara nodded slowly. "I love you, Michael." She leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a salty kiss.

“I know,” Michael mumbled against her mouth. “And I’ll always love you,” he added quickly, pulling her face closer to his and devouring her mouth hungrily. It was gentle and it was a kiss of love, every second of their lives together poured into it like a memory that would never end for as long as he kissed her. Michael didn’t want to stop kissing her, just in case it was the last time.

Sara kissed Michael until she absolutely had to pull away, due to lack of oxygen. She pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth, then one to his cheek, then moved back to his lips for one more kiss. "I'll make you a deal. How about the next time one of us is stuck in the hospital, it's because this little one is making his or her appearance." She pulled away and motioned to her stomach.

Michael smiled at her and let a small chuckle escape his lips. “Hopefully it won’t be me,” he grinned, looking up at her. “Last time you was about ready to neuter me,” he laughed, wiping his eyes quickly and sliding his hands down her body until they rested on her hips. He tenderly brushed his thumbs over her stomach until his whole hand moved to there and lifted up her top. He bowed his head and let his lips linger on her skin as he kissed her womb, letting his face press against the area afterwards as he hugged her waist. “Please don’t be as painful…” he whispered to her flat stomach. “Think of your daddy,” he grinned.

Sara rubbed her hand gently over his head as he spoke softly to her stomach. She leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to his head. "I'll be nicer this time around. I promise."

Michael laughed again, lifted his head to look at her. “No you won’t,” he chuckled with an arched eyebrow. “But I’ll still love you afterwards.”

Sara leaned down, meeting his lips in another kiss. It felt good to talk about the future. She pulled away, smiling softly. "Are you going to talk to Roman before you go in?"

“And say what?” Michael said, loosing his smile. “I wouldn’t know what to say. I want to talk to Linc alone though, if you’re okay with that?”

"Of course I'm okay with that." Sara forced a smile and tried to give Michael a mock-stern look. "As long as you don't tell him he has to marry me in the event something happens to you." She ducked her head, brushing her lips across his ear. "Because we all know you're way better in bed."

Michael smiled wickedly as her breath tickled his ear, setting all the hairs on his body standing to attention. “Damn right,” he almost growled, holding her close and turning his head to kiss her neck. “Wait…you wouldn’t marry him right?” he pulled his head back and looked at her a little scared. “Right?” he repeated when she smirked.

"Baby. . ." Sara trailed off and smiled softly. She shook her head slowly. "I wouldn't marry Linc. What do those weddings rings of ours say again? And nothing is happening to you so it doesn't even matter anyway." She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "I guess I'm just stuck with you."

Michael was just about to protest her remark when Lincoln knocked on the door softly, holding Roman up so he could peak through the small glass window. The boy pressed his face to the glass making a giggling noise afterwards as he turned to his uncle and mumbled something about what he had done.

Sara smiled and turned to Michael, motioning towards Roman. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen a little boy who looks so much like his Daddy." She smirked and slid off the bed. "I'll let you and Linc talk now, okay?"

“Thanks,” Michael said, letting her get to the end of her arm before pulling her back to him for a kiss. “I’ll see you before I go down, won’t I?”

"Yeah, I'll be back. Roman too." She brushed her lips across his. "I love you."

She walked slowly to the door, wiping away any remnants of cried tears. She held her arms out and Roman happily switched to her embrace, laying his head on his shoulder. "I think Mommy and Roman are going to go find something to drink." She smiled softly at Linc. "He wants to talk to you."

Lincoln nodded at Sara and ruffled Roman's hair, watching them make their way down the hallway before opening Michael's door and walking in. He shuffled his foot across the floor, then closed the door, leaning against it. "Hey, bud."

Maybe it was because he had already cried, or maybe it was just the tone of Lincoln’s sad welcome, but Michael burst into tears. The hot salty liquid stung his eyes and he hunched his body over in bed and buried his face in his hands. He knew his brother knew this was serious by the way he greeted him and by his reluctance to step any closer. Lincoln always had emotional problems, mainly showing them in public. “I’m scared, Linc,” Michael muttered against his hands, not looking up.

Lincoln wanted to move towards Michael, but he stayed rooted where he was. It killed him to see Michael like that, in the situation he was in, more than anyone would ever know. He glanced to the floor. "I know. I'm scared too."

Michael let out a frustrated growl at himself, and kept his face hidden as he panted away his tears. “Am I doing the right thing?” Michael asked his brother softly, not looking up at him.

Lincoln took a few steps towards Michael, crossing his arms in front of him. "I wish I knew what to tell you. I mean, I know why you want to do this, Michael, but. . . to think this could be the last time that we --" His voice caught in his throat, and he cleared it, changing the direction of his words a little bit. "To think this might be the last time that you hold Sara? Or Roman? To know you have a baby that you might never meet? God, Michael. . ."

“I just want them to be safe,” Michael sniffed, finally looking up to his brother. “Right now, they aren’t. Lincoln, this…thing…in my head…” he pointed to his temple, accenting his point. “…I did this. I was stupid at work and I made this happen,” he said with an angry tone directed at his own stupidity that day. “I have the chance to fix that, to redeem myself and make them safe. I would rather die than spend the rest of my life knowing my family is afraid of me.”

"First of all, this isn't your fault. You didn't make this happen, Michael." Lincoln let out a quiet sigh and finally moved over to Michael's bed, sitting down at the foot. He kept his gaze on the wall. "I'd do it if I were you. I'd have the surgery. I know how much you love your family, man. But Michael, Sara has already lost. . . we have all already lost. . . so much."

Michael looked at his brother’s profile with great sadness in his heart. Lincoln was right but every time he thought about opting out of the surgery, Roman’s smiling face interrupted his thoughts and tugged at his heart. Could he really live the rest of his life never seeing it again? “Lincoln…” Michael said softly until his brother looked at him. “…If you saw his face. If you had seen Sara’s face,” he breathed, his breath catching in his throat again. “No,” he shook his head and looked to the door absently. “I won’t be the father who scares his children. I won’t be that man.”

"Then you have to do it." Lincoln nodded slowly, and turned to look at Michael. He blinked several times and cleared his throat. "You have to do it and you have to know things are going to be okay."

Michael gave his brother a soft smile. “Lincoln I want you to do something for me,” he said firmly, keeping eye contact with his brother.

Lincoln nodded slowly. "Yeah, Michael. Anything you want. Anything you need."

“Look after them,” Michael said slowly. “If I die…promise me you’ll look after them. I don’t care what you have to do, just make sure they are okay,” Michael said sternly, feeling the well of tears in his eyes again.

Lincoln took a hold of Michael's shoulder, squeezing firmly. He wanted to tell him not to worry about anything, but instead, he just nodded. "You know I will, buddy. I'll do everything I can." His eyes pricked with tears and he glanced down. "Michael, I --"

“Lincoln?” Michael coaxed, placing his hand over his brother’s on his shoulder. “Please don’t cry. One of us has to be manly about this, and I’ve already cried,” he joked weakly. “Just promise me they’ll be okay,” he repeated, squeezing his brother’s hand and feeling his tears begin to fall. “I love you, Linc,” he said on a hitched breath. “Don’t ever forget that.”

"They'll be okay, Michael. I promise. You'll be the one who's here to make sure they're okay." He squeezed Michael's shoulder again, doing his best to hold back his tear. "Just have a little faith?"

“I have faith,” Michael said simply. “Do you?” he said with a frown, taking in his brother’s broken expression.

"I do." Lincoln looked up at him and gave one slow nod. "I do, buddy. You're going to make it through this. You're going to do fine." He smiled weakly. "I love you, Michael."

Michael didn’t smile back but stared at his brother with a fretful gaze. “Than why do you look like you’re about to cry?”

"This just fucking sucks, Michael. Okay?" Lincoln stood and smoothed his hands over his head. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you that. Mom died. We never even knew Dad, and then we the day we find him he. . ." Lincoln cleared his throat then motioned to Michael. "You don't fucking deserve this!"

“Linc…” Michael said softly, looking away from his brother. “Don’t…”

Lincoln shook his head and let out a long sigh. "I'm sorry. I just. . ." He moved back to sit down on the bed. "You're going to be okay. I know you are."

“We both know that if either of us believed that wholeheartedly, we wouldn’t be talking about this,” Michael argued. “I just want you to…you’re my brother, Lincoln. I love you no matter what. Please just make sure Sara is looked after.”

Lincoln crossed his arms, turning his gaze back to the wall. "We being brutally honest here, Michael? I can do my best to try and make sure she's okay, but if something happens to you, she isn't going to be. You hold everyone together."

“That’s not true!” Michael roared. “Who was there, all the times I pushed her away while I was in prison? Who…held her hand and told her she would be okay? Who holds my son’s heart better then anyone I know just because he is the best at being a friend to anyone he has ever met?” Michael growled angrily. “You, Lincoln. You,” he spat, pointing to his brother with a shaky finger. “So don’t sit there and tell me how much it will kill Sara if I am gone, because I already know what it feels like to have her hate me for leaving once.”

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Lincoln leaned forward, running his hand over his head. "The only reason Sara even gave a shit about being around me was because I was your brother, Michael! She never hated you. She has been so in love with you for so long I think she can't even see straight sometimes!" He spat the words out, turning away. "I would give anything to have what you and Sara have, Michael! And you waste so much energy being angry at me because you think Sara and I are so close, or you think Roman would rather hang out with me!" He turned back to him. "Really, I think all this time you must have seriously been insane and we all just missed it. Do you not listen to how she talks to you? Or see how she looks at you? Do you not pay attention to how much your son adores you?" Lincoln pressed his hands to the railing of the bed. "It doesn't matter how fucking there I am for her, or how tightly I hold her hand when all she wants is you, Michael. All she's ever wanted is you!"

Michael clenched his jaw a few times, panting heavily from his nostrils as his brother spoke. Tears welled in his eyes again and he quickly moved the back of his hand to wipe them away. The tape on the back of his hand pulled at the delicate hairs there and he ignored the pain, replacing it with his anger. “You know, sometime I really believe she would have been better off with you,” he admitted with a gulp. “I used to sit in my cell…hoping, no praying you had made a move, made her begin to forget me. After everything…you’re just as addicted to Sara as I am,” Michael said plainly, looking back up to his brother. “I don’t hate you for that, Lincoln. It means you love her. It means you’ll do right by her if I…”

Lincoln let out a quiet sigh and stepped towards Michael. He put his hand on the back of Michael's head, pulling him into a hug. "Sara's amazing, Michael. I would kick your ass if you were ever stupid enough to let her go. I love her, I love you, and I love my nephew. If anything happens, I'll do everything in my power to take care of them, to make sure they'll alright. You know that without me telling you. But you do everything in your power to be okay. Alright? You just do everything you can to make sure you wake up." He took a deep breath. "Because I might be here to take care of them, but no one would be here to take care of me. So just. . . be alright, Michael."

Michael felt fresh tears prick at his eyes as Lincoln spoke. He buried his face in his brother’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around his body, holding him tightly as he cried. “You need a girlfriend,” Michael laughed softly, his words muffled by Lincoln’s shirt.

"Yeah, you're telling me," Lincoln muttered, pulling away from the embrace. "As soon as your out of here and all healed, I plan on getting laid. If you can stop sticking me with your kid just so you guys can do it, that is."

“We do other things”! Michael objected weakly. “We…” he pondered, trying to recall one instance where Lincoln had taken Roman so him and Sara could be alone. “…We talk,” he shrugged. “Afterwards,” he laughed, his body rocking back on the bed.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's how Sara got pregnant again, right?" Lincoln smiled and arched an eyebrow. "Talking."

“I have a way with words,” Michael said with a twisted smile. Their moment was interrupted by a nurse entering the room, followed by some younger doctors and Dr. Rollins.

“Okay, Michael,” the doctor said enthusiastically. “Are you ready?”

Michael looked to Lincoln with a worried expression. “Find Sara. Tell her it’s time,” he said with a nod.

Lincoln nodded slowly. "Yeah." He exited the room and didn't have to go very far. Roman and Sara were standing in the hallway. "Sara, it's time for them to take him back."

Sara jostled Roman who was half-asleep on her shoulder, following Lincoln back to the room. "I've been trying to keep him awake. . . come on, buddy. We have to see Daddy for just a few minutes and then it's naptime, okay?"

Michael watched his hair fall from his head as one of the nurses quickly shaved his scalp, making way for the surgical head brace. He looked up, gently batting away the nurse’s hand and the razor to look at Sara and Roman. “I’m going down soon,” Michael said to her with a weak smile. “Wish me luck,” he said sadly.

"You don't need luck," Sara shook her head, reaching for Michael's hand. "We love you."

Roman lifted his head, smiling down at his daddy. He repeated his mom's words through a yawn. "Loooove you."

“I love you guys too. All of you,” Michael said, eyeing Lincoln behind Sara with a stern gaze.

Lincoln gave him a nod. "Okay, Michael loves everyone. Everyone loves Michael. Have you ever been in a room with more love?"

“I know I haven’t,” Dr. Rollins said with a chuckle. “Now, does anyone have any questions?”

Sara shifted Roman to her other hip. "How long does this generally take?"

Lincoln joined it. "Are we going to know about his progress during the surgery, or will we not hear until it's done?"

“It’s a long and very complicated surgery,” Dr. Rollins began. “We need to get to the center of Michael’s brain, then wake him up so we know we don’t damage the wrong part when trying to fix the damaged part.”

“How will you fix it exactly?” Michael asked quickly.

“It will take us about seven hours, if all goes to plan,” Dr. Rollin said looking between the three adults. “We will basically be rebooting the damaged part of your brain,” he said to Michael. “It’s malfunctioning and causing your episodes, so we need to give it a kick start. We’ll basically, shut it down, and revive it and it will start as normal. Hopefully,” he smiled.

"Hopefully." Sara murmured, glancing from the doctor to Michael. "And when this is done, that'll be it, right? No more worrying? No more episodes?"

“No more episodes,” the doctor smiled at her reassuringly.

“What about my LLI episodes?” Michael asked with a frown. “Are they triggered by the same part of the brain? Are they triggered because of this part of the brain malfunctioning?”

Dr. Rollins shook his head. “No. Your LLI is a permanent fixture in your life, Michael. It’s not physical, it’s psychological. No amount of brain surgery will change that,” he gave Michael a quick point.

“Oh no, I know,” Michael said with a slight smile. “I was just asking. I’ve controlled those outbursts and I have to say, I’m really glad this was nothing to do with my LLI. I was afraid…” he said slowly, looking to Sara and Roman asleep in her arms. “…I was afraid it was related to my LLI and I wouldn’t be able to fix it.”

"See?" Sara turned around and took another step closer to the bed. "It's all okay. It's going to be fixed. And you're going to be fine."

Michael gave her a smile as the orderly stepped on the brakes to his bed and it began moving. Michael heaved a nervous sigh and gripped at Sara’s hand as she walked beside the bed. “I love you,” he said in a shaky voice.

"I love you. You know I love you. I will always love you. . ." Sara nodded slowly and stopped walking when she was allowed to go no further. "I'll see you soon, Michael."

“The elevator doors closed and Michael blew a kiss to Sara just before she disappeared from his view. Lincoln stepped up behind her and laid his hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be okay,” Lincoln nodded, watching the elevator numbers climb above the doorway. “Or I’ll kick his ass in heaven,” he laughed.

Sara pressed her cheek against her sleeping baby's and nodded slowly. "And now all we can do is wait."

“Come on,” Lincoln whispered, turning her slowly and leading her back to the waiting room. “Let’s go and sit down,” he said, reaching and taking Roman from her tired arms, carefully transferring him to his own body so he didn’t wake. “We got seven hours to kill,” he smiled, pressing his hand to the small of her back as they walked.

Sara walked slowly into the waiting room, immediately sitting down on a worn chair. She gave Lincoln a nervous glance. "The longest seven hours of my life."

“Mine too,” Lincoln whispered, sitting opposite her and arranging his body so Roman was more comfortable as he rested against his chest. “So…” he said quietly, rubbing his hand up Roman’s back slowly and arching his eyebrows, not knowing what to say next.

Sara bit her bottom lip and glanced up to Lincoln. She held his gaze for a minute, then looked away. "I've been thinking."

“About?” Lincoln frowned, confused by her sudden reluctance to look at him. “Are you okay, Sara?” he said slowly.

Sara kept her gaze trained to the wall. "If something happens, I'm not having the baby."

“What?!” Lincoln squeaked, hushing his voice so Roman didn’t stir or awaken. “Sara…” Lincoln said but he was too shocked to say anything else. “Why?”

"Because I can't." Sara finally looked to him, keeping her expression firm. "I can't and I don't want to."

“You’d abort the last thing Michael ever gave you? Because you can’t?” Lincoln said to her, almost demanding her answer. “Sara, why would you do that?”

"I can't do it without him," Sara snapped at Lincoln. "I can't have a baby without him. I can't raise a child who never gets to know Michael. I can't."

Lincoln looked at her for a second, moistening his lips as he sighed and stared at the floor. Finally, he looked back up to her. “Then it’s a good job you won’t have to, because in seven hours you’ll be holding your husband's hand and wishing you never thought about this.”

Sara crossed her arms in front of her. "Yeah. Let's hope that's the case."

“You will be,” Lincoln said firmly. “So stop talking nonsense. No one is going to die today, born or unborn. Got that, Mrs. Scofield?” he said with a slight smile.

"Got it. . ." Sara murmured, leaning back into the chair. She gave him a look and sighed. "I don't know how you can be so sure like this."

“One of us has to,” Lincoln said sadly, rubbing Roman’s back a little harder when he stirred, turning his face until it was pushing into Lincoln’s neck. His little hand gripped at Lincoln’s shirt and he sighed heavily. “This little guy can’t see us both broken, can he?”

"I almost feel like he shouldn't here," Sara whispered. "I just don't know what we would have done with him though. He's going to get cranky sitting around here. I would take him home for awhile but. . ."

“But?” Lincoln repeated her last word, holding Roman close as he stirred and a soft whimper escaped his mouth. Lincoln froze, waiting for him to fall back asleep but he was still for only a second before he lifted his head and looked around him groggily. He stared at Lincoln who gave him a small smile and then looked over at Sara, blinked a few times as he rest his head back down to Lincoln’s chest.

“Daddy…” he said softly, looking further around the room but not finding what he wanted. He began to pant and pursed his bottom lip out. “Daddy!” he began to cry, his cheek flushing red and his body shaking with soft sobs.

"You can see Daddy soon," Sara moved over to Lincoln's side, pressing her hand to Roman's cheek. He wailed louder. "Mommy and Uncle Linc are right here."

Roman's bottom lip quivered and he shook his head, moving to slide off Linc's lap. "Daddy!" He choked on a sob and coughed a few times.

“Daddy’s just gone to…um…Daddy’s taking a nap,” Lincoln nodded to his nephew, helping him move off of his lap. “He’ll be back soon, okay buddy?”

"No." Roman moved towards the door of the room and frowned. "Daddy now. Daddy sick." His lower lip began to tremble again. "I miss. . ." He let out a wail. "Daaaaaddy!"

Luckily Roman couldn’t’ reach the door handle and Lincoln sighed sympathetically, pushing himself to his feet and walking to the small child. “Roman, I promise,” he said, lifting him into his arms. “Daddy is going to be okay,” he nodded with a smile. “He’s just sleeping, right mommy?” Lincoln said, looking to Sara and soothing Roman’s sobs by stroking his back.

"Uncle Linc's right," Sara soothed, walking over to Lincoln and Roman. She brushed Roman's hair from his head. "Daddy's just having a nap. You can see him again in just a little while, okay baby?"

“Daddy sleeping?” Roman asked her again, a slight hitch in his voice as his sob caught in his throat. “Mommy promise?” he sniffed in a weak voice, his lips quivering as he rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes messily.

Sara sighed and reached for Roman. He sniffled and reached for her and she pulled him close to her chest. "Are you hungry, baby? Mommy and Uncle Linc can take you up the cafeteria. You can have whatever you want to eat. And some pop! Mommy will let you drink pop!"

Lincoln winced a little. Last time someone, namely him, gave Roman pop he was bouncing off the walls for several hours, singing and jumping up and down for most of the afternoon until Michael and Sara arrived to pick him up and gave Lincoln an earful. Just as Lincoln was about to talk, a tiny knock on the door alerted them both to a surgical intern peeking his head around the door.

“Mrs. Scofield?” the young man said slowly, confused by the presence of Lincoln if her husband was supposed to be in surgery. He wore light blue scrubs and held a disposable mask in one hand that had previously been held to his face.

Sara cleared her throat, and nodded slowly, pulling Roman closer to her. She glanced to Lincoln then back to the doctor. "Yes, I'm Sara Scofield."

The intern smiled and stepped into the room. “Hi, my name is Dr. Patrick. Dr. Rollins sent me to give you an update,” he said cheerily, not loosing his smile. “Michael is doing fine. We have got through the worst part of the surgery so far and we are about to wake him up to do the rest.”

“But, you’ve only been down there a little while?” Lincoln asked confused. Dr. Patrick looked at Lincoln but before he could speak, Lincoln answered his silent question. “I’m his brother.”

“Well, getting into the brain is the easy part,” he smiled softly. “Working on the centre of the brain without damaging any parts around our equipment will take the time,” he said with a nod. “Any questions?”

"I, uh --" Sara cleared her throat, trying to think of something to ask. Before she could say something, Roman looked up and glared at the intern. "Daddy sleeeping."

“Yes, he is little guy,” the intern said with a smile. Lincoln looked at Sara.

“Hey, Roman, you want to go and get some pop while mommy talks to the nice doctor?” he said excitedly, holding his arms open for the toddler. Roman nodded excitedly and jumped from Sara to Lincoln, chanting in his uncle's arms as they left the room.

“Did you have a question, Mrs. Scofield?” Dr. Patrick asked her softly, his hands held together behind his back.

Sara crossed her arms in front of her, watching Lincoln and Roman disappear down the hallway. "So you said even though you got in, you haven't gotten through the worst part yet? Michael will be awake while you're doing the worst part?"

“Yes,” Dr. Patrick nodded. “We need him to be responsive and alert while we touch parts of his brain…in case we touch the wrong part. We can tell just by his reaction to certain things. It’s my personal job to keep him talking and moving his hands in simple tasks like clapping and turning them over while Dr. Rollins operates.”

Sara nodded slowly. "So if something goes wrong, it's going to go wrong there. And Michael will know? He'll be able to tell?"

“We will,” Dr. Patrick said, shifting his feet on the tiled floor. “Michael won’t feel anything but if he suddenly looses speech, or his hands begin to shake, he might get scared while we fix it,” he said as Sara lifted his hands to her forehead and sighed. “I know this is a lot to process…” he offered.

"It is." Sara pressed her fingertips to her forehead. "So. . . how much longer are we looking at before . . . before we're sure he's okay? I mean, not until the end?"

Dr. Patrick lifted his wrist and looked at his watch. “Probably by your next update. I’ll come and see you again when we put him back to sleep and start retracting from his brain, okay? Anything else I can tell you?”

Sara shook her head. "No, I don't think so. How long until the next update, do you think?"

“I can’t say,” Dr. Patrick said. “It varies with patient and how easy it will be to reboot the damaged lobe,” he said offering her a small smile. “Try not to worry,” he said, moving towards the door and pulling it open. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he said quickly, letting go of the door and letting it close under its own weight. He took a few steps towards Sara and fished in his pocket. “Michael asked me to give you this,” he said, holding out his flat palm. There, sitting in the centre of his hand was Michael’s wedding band. “He said to tell you, filet mignon?” Dr. Patrick said with a confused smile.

Sara laughed quietly and took the ring from him, slipping it onto her thumb. She nodded slowly, twisting it on her thumb. "Yeah. That sounds like something Michael would say." She watched as the doctor walked away, then went to the cafeteria to find Lincoln and Roman.

Lincoln sat in the chair opposite from Sara and crossed his arms. Roman had curled himself up in his mother’s lap and was softly snoring, sucking gently on his bottom lip every now and again. Lincoln looked up to the clock above them and sighed. The surgery was overrunning and Michael had been gone for ten hours. Suddenly, he bolted upright and stood to his feet when the young intern returned with a smile.

“Mrs. Scofield? Mr. Burrows?” he said softly, noticing Roman asleep. “Good news. The surgery went fine and we are just moving Michael to ICU,” he grinned.

“Can we see him?” Lincoln asked, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“One at a time,” the doctor nodded. “He’ll be awake but groggy for a few hours, and please don’t be alarmed if he doesn’t talk right away,” the doctor shook his head. “We had to go through his speech area and he may take a while to remember how to talk again because of the trauma to that section. He’ll be fine though. Shall I take you to him?” he asked, looking between them.

“You go,” Lincoln said quietly, walking towards Sara and gently taking Roman from her. “Say hi for me,” he smiled.

Sara nodded slowly, rubbing her hand gently over Roman's back. He sighed softly onto Linc's shoulder and Sara grinned. "He's okay."

“I told you,” Lincoln whispered with a relieved smile. “Now go see your husband,” he said, swaying Roman back off to a deeper slumber.

Sara nodded slowly, following the intern back to where the ICU was. She glanced up at him. "He'll be able to recognize me though?"

“Of course,” Dr. Patrick said, resting his hand on Michael’s door. “Don’t be alarmed by the beeping and the monitor. We are just making sure his brain is functioning,” he nodded reassuringly and pushed open the door for her. “He can hear you but we have him a little sedated for the pain.”

"Thank you. . ." Sara walked slowly into the room and waited until Dr. Patrick closed the door before making her way over to Michael. His eyes were closed and she glanced at all the monitors around him. Brushing her fingers over her forehead, she whispered. "Hi, baby. I'm right here."

Michael’s chest slowly rose and fell with each breath he took and he laid still. His head was covered in layers of crisp white bandage but the drilled holes for the head brace could still be seen above his ears and to the sides of his forehead. The blanket was just up to his waist and his hands were resting on top of it, motionless like the rest of his body.

Sara sighed softly and laid her head gently down on his stomach. The tears came before she could stop them and a second later she felt herself sobbing. He was okay, he was right there and he was okay. He had made it.

Warmth invaded Michael abdomen but he couldn’t open his eyes to see what was there. There was a slight dull thumping in his head, mainly at the back where they had done the surgery, and he frowned a little, swallowing a dryness down his throat. He lifted a heavy hand to his stomach and rested it on top of someone else’s, gently stroking at the fingers that were shaking. He smelt the air and it had the lingering scent aloe accompanied with the slightly soft scent of his son, masked with womanly warmth. It was Sara. He gripped her hand weakly and tried in vain to peel his eyes open.

Sara lifted her head up and smiled softly, linking her fingers with Michael's and squeezing gently. "Hey, baby. I'm right here. Can you hear me?" She paused and smiled softly bring her hand up to his cheek. "Don't try to hard, okay? Just rest. I'm here. God, I love you, Michael."

Michael relaxed again with a sigh of relief. Fighting his sedation was harder then he thought it would be, so he just squeezed her hand a little tighter and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. He frowned a little, lifting his other hand up to his head and tentatively touching his bandages before inhaling a breath and letting a sob escape his mouth. He let his hand fall back to the blanket and he cried silently, tears escaping his closed eyelids freely, a mixture of pain and relief that he had made it through surgery.

Sara brushed her fingers across Michael's face, trying to dry his tears. "It's okay, Michael. I'm right here. I know it hurts, baby." She whispered her words soothingly. "Linc and Roman are going to be so happy to see you. We'll wait til you feel a little better to bring Ro in. I love you so much, baby."

Michael’s chest heaved with a few more sobs before he finally was taken by his sedative and drifted off into a deep sleep. He heard Sara’s words as clear as day but he couldn’t for the life of him repeat them for her. He couldn’t even think to say them. He wasn’t sure how much time had past when he finally was able to open his eyes and saw Sara sitting in the chair beside his bed but with her head resting beside his body on the mattress, her eyes closed and her breathing shallow. He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, stroking his hand down the face and gently rousing her from her sleep.

Sara blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room. She saw Michael staring down at her and she quickly stood, taking his hand in hers. "Hey you." She pressed her hand to his cheek. He was warm. "You look better."

Michael nodded and waved his hand in front of his mouth, silently asking her why he couldn’t talk. He coughed, clearing his throat, before trying again but no words came out. He shifted in his bed, wincing a little when he rolled his head on the pillow, forgetting his head hurt so much and finally resting his eyes back on Sara. Taking his hand in hers he lifted it to his lips and kissed it slowly, letting his lips linger on each knuckle and holding them to her wedding band for what felt like forever.

"Hey you. Don't try to talk if you can't okay? They've been poking around up there, and it might take awhile. . ." She brushed her fingers down his cheek, smiling softly. "Ooh. I can say whatever I want without you being able to argue. Might have to use that to my advantage." Tears filled her eyes again and she sighed softly, wiggling her thumb at him. "You know, you keep taking this thing off. You trying to tell me something, Scofield?"

Michael shook his head slowly, grabbing her hand in his and wrapping his palm around her thumb. He gently slid his ring off and placed it where it belong, back on his long, slender finger. He held up his hand and wiggled it towards her with a quirked brow, offering her a smile. He then moved his hand to cup her face, smoothing his thumb over her cheeks and interrupting her tears as they began to fall. He tilted his head apologetically, silently begging her to stop.

"That looks a lot better on your hand that on mine." Sara sniffled and placed her hands over his, taking a deep breath. "I know, I know. I'm a mess, right." She moved one hand to press against his forehead. "I knew you'd be okay. We knew you'd be okay, didn't we?" She forced a smile. "Roman woke up from his nap wanting you. I think he knows something is going on."

Michael frowned a little and sighed through his nose giving her a soft smile. He felt something tug in his chest and he let his mouth fall open and a heavy breath escape it. His lip quivered as he held a hand to his chest, motioning to himself, unsure of the words he had just heard. He blinked at Sara, double checking she meant Roman wanted him.

"Yup. He was crying for his daddy. Mommy and Uncle Linc just weren't doing it for him." She pressed a quick kiss to his head. "I told him you were sleeping, but I don't think he bought it. He kept saying you were sick. And that he missed you. I had to give him some pop to distract him." She smiled softly. "He loves you so much."

Michael laughed a silent, juddering chuckle after raising his eyebrows at her words. He was surprised Sara, of all people, would give their son pop. Especially after last time. He shook his head as he laughed, keeping his smile well past his chuckle and sighing at her lovingly. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to be okay, alive and awake and touching Sara again. He took her hand, resting it over his heart so she could feel the steady thumping of it beating. He pointed to himself, then touched her hand again, indicating his heart, before pointing to her with a soft smile.

"You love me, hmm?" Sara smiled softly at him. She moved so she was perched on the side of the bed. "I love you too, baby. So much. God, it feels so good that this is all going to be behind us, doesn't it?" She took his hand in hers, moving to lay it flat against her stomach. "We can think about happy things again."

Michael nodded slowly before he lifted his hand to his face level, curled an index finger and motioning her closer to him with a wicked smile. He jerked his head a little sideways, encouraging her closer.

Sara's smile grew wider and she leaned in closer to where her lips were barely an inch from his. "Are you asking for a kiss, Scofield?"

Michael’s eyes flickered between hers and her sweet, kissable smile while he nodded slowly. He closed the small gap between them, pressing his lips to hers and relaxing into his pillows with her still kissing him. He smoothed his hand down her forearm and moved her hand back to his heart, declaring his love for her once more as their tongued danced.

Sara pulled away slowly, lingering on his bottom lip. When she finally sat back up, she had tears in her eyes. "Do you want me to stay here with you again tonight? I'm sure Linc would be more than willing to keep Ro for us. But I'm guessing our little boy is gonna throw a fit when he has to leave you here tonight. I have a feeling he's going to be pretty clingy over the next little while."

Michael closed his eyes and shook his head. He gulped her taste down his throat and wanted her to stay, but Roman needed a familiar place to rest for the night. He ran his hand over her brow, smoothing her hair from her face and letting his knuckle brush the side of her face lovingly. He pointed to her with raised eyebrows, clapped his hands together and rested them to the side of his face; his eyes closed in pretend sleep and then drew a primitive house symbol in the air between them. He looked at her expectantly, wondering if she understood his communication or if she thought he was just acting like an idiot.

"You want me to take Roman home tonight and sleep there with him?" Sara arched an eyebrow, wondering if she'd understood right. She sighed. "You know if I do that, I'm gonna make Linc stay here with you, right?"

Michael smiled at her proudly, knowing she had understood his sign language. He nodded softly, lacing his fingers with hers and sighed again. He just stared at her, his hazy blue orbs boring deep into her soul. Once more, he pointed to himself, touched his hand to his heart and then pointed to her, only this time he stretched his arms open wide with a grin.

Sara arched an eyebrow and shook her head, grinning wider. "You are enjoying this too much, okay? Once you remember how to talk, you can't just pretend you can't, just to keep this whole sign language thing up. Because you're not that good at it. I'm just smart. You're lucky you have such a brilliant wife."

Michael only replied with a smirked, gently pulling her hand towards his body and her figure with it. He puckered his lips at her, wanting another kiss, smiling innocently as she eyed him warily.

"You're lucky you're cute," Sara murmured before leaning in and brushing her lips across his. She deepened the kiss, flicking her tongue across his bottom lip. "Michael. . ."

Without thinking Michael groaned against her mouth and stroked her face with his hand, holding it to his while his tongue met hers and they massaged each other with a hungry passion. He trailed his other hand down her side with a feathery touch and pressed it into the small of her back, holding her to him. Finally, he broke the kiss, holding the back of her head and resting his forehead against hers. He swallowed hard and frowned a little. "S…Sara…" he croaked shakily, flicking his eyes upwards to look at her. It was only one word, but it was the only one that mattered.

"Hey!" Sara smiled softly, tears springing to her eyes again. She pressed her cheek to his, sighing softly. "That's my name." She smirked, giving him a look. "At least you remember who your wife is."

Michael gave her a sideways look with implied hurt. He hit his chest dramatically. Like he could never forget her. Suddenly he closed his eyes and his head swayed sideways, his face contorting with pain as his pain relief began to wear off and his head began to pound, the blood gushing through the vessels so loudly it hurt to open his eyes. He clenched his teeth and moved his hand to his bandaged head, resting it to his temple as if it could stop the pain.

Sara made a soft noise and moved to the bag beside his bed, checking to see what fluids he was being given. "I guess it's about time for me to stop overexerting you, huh? I'll get someone in here to up your meds, okay baby? And you should probably try to rest some more." She moved back to him, kissing his forehead. "Do you want to see Linc before you nap, or do you want to wait until later for him and Ro to come in?"

Michael rested back down onto the pillows and blinked his eyes open a few times, adjusting to the lights. He looked to her with a sad expression and closed his eyes sleepily a few times. He lifted a heavy hand and extended one finger, making a circular motion away from his body in the air as his eyes fell closed again.

"Okay. We'll wait til later. After you go to sleep, I'll go tell them how you're doing." She pressed her lips to his forehead, lowering his voice. "Thank you for being okay."

Michael nodded, wincing immediately when his head began to sting with pain. He gently squeezed her wrist but did not open his eyes to watch her go, mainly because the lights were making his headache worse.


	50. Chapter 50

Lincoln walked back down the hall, coffee in hand. He had sat by Michael's bed, half-awake, all night long. Sometime close to midnight Sara had finally taken Roman home, and he had started the vigil. Michael's meds were strong though, and he hadn't woken up.

Pushing the door to his room open, Lincoln broke out into a smile when he saw Michael's eyes open. "Well, it's about damn time."

Michael snapped his gaze towards the door and noticed his brother saunter into the room, steaming coffee in hand and a tired expression. Michael lifted his hand and gave him a small welcoming wave before pushing his clenched fists into the bed on either side of his body and pushing himself into a sitting position.

"You're looking pretty good," Lincoln smirked, sitting the coffee down on the night stand. "Feeling better?" He walked closer to him, ducking his head. "I guess I don't get to marry Sara now, huh."

Michael nodded and gave his brother a thumbs up. He laughed a little at his mention of Sara, shaking his head with a smirk and waving his wedding band at his brother. Sara wouldn’t re-marry, he had confidence in that and he rubbed it in Lincoln’s face smugly.

Lincoln smirked and collapsed back down into the chair, sighing. "Well, then I guess you'd better hope I don't crack you over the head and tell her you signed to me that you want me to marry her. This whole silent thing might work in my favor now that I think about it. Sara Burrows. I like it."

Michael cleared his throat angrily and crossed his arms, quirking an eyebrow at his brother. His brow furrowed and he opening his mouth to speak, blinking his eyes frustrated as the words came out slowly. “You…okay?” he said agonisingly slowly.

"I'm great," Linc smiled up at him. "It's good to see you awake. It's nice to see Sara happy again. I'm glad you're okay." He pulled a face. "I guess I'll just have to get over the fact that Sara and I still have to keep our relationship on the side."

Michael tilts his head and gives him a roll of his eyes. “Ha,” he croaked, his voice old and withered like he has lost his voice. “Funny,” he coughed.

Lincoln smirked. "Really, Michael. I don't think I've ever been happier than the second you said you were okay. How are you? Can I get you something."

Michael simply shook his head, lifting his wrist and tapping the lightened area where his watch used to be.

"You want to know what time it is?" Lincoln arched an eyebrow. "Or you think I stole your watch?" He laughed. "It's almost ten o'clock, I'm sure that wife of yours will be crawling back here any second. And as for the watch, I already sold it, so.. ."

“Ass…” Michael whispered again, his voice barely audible over the sound of the door opening. A nurse scurried to his bedside, adjusting one of his IV’s and offering Lincoln a smile before leaving the room with a blush. Michael looked at his brother, who was watching the nurse leave, and he smirked at him knowingly when he turned back towards him.

Lincoln arched an eyebrow at Michael. "Think I could get a date? She was pretty cute. I bet she's kinky. You think she's kinky. We could play a little nurse/sick patient."

Michael rolled his eyes again and let a chuckle escape his lips. “No…” Michael laughed softly, rasping the word. “She…too pretty,” he smirked at his brother.

"Hey. I'd watch myself if I were you. We've all seen how Sara looks at me." He picked up his coffee and took a sip. "If someone like her wants me, I can get anyone."

“Ha!” Michael rasped again, slapping his hand lightly on the side of the bed. He rolled his head back into the pillows and his scalp itched under his bandages where his hair had already begun to sprout new growth. He frowned and moved to lightly scratch his head, his attempt interrupted by the familiar squeal of a child outside his door.

Lincoln rolled his eyes. "God, I hope she didn't give him pop again this morning."

Sara shifted Roman on her hip and pushed the door to Michael's room open. She hadn't slept much the night before, but Roman had slept in her and Michael's bed and slept through the entire night. While they showered and dressed that morning, all he had done was go on and on about seeing his daddy. As soon as he saw Michael, he let out another shriek. "DAAAAAAADDY!!! Daddy!"

“Roman!” Michael rasped, copying his tone as the boy scrambled up onto his bed and threw his arms around his neck. Michael hugged him tightly, not caring that his head hurt like hell. He pressed his lips to his head, resting his cheek to his thin, black locks afterwards and inhaling with a content sigh.

Sara stepped towards the bed, placing her hand on Roman's back. "Hey, hey. I know you're excited, but what did Mommy tell you?"

Roman pulled away a little, quieting his voice. "Be caaaareful."

Michael looked over to Sara and shook his head a little. “He’s okay…” he smiled gently, his voice nothing more than a squeak as it left his mouth. His throat hurt a little too, probably from the breathing tube they had put in while he was asleep each time and than removed to wake him up. It changed his voice and made him sound more rugged and like he had smoked all his life. “Are you?”

"I'm great," Sara whispered, nodding her head slowly. "Roman kept me company in bed last night, so I wasn't alone. He's quite the kicker."

Roman snuggled into his daddy, letting out a content sigh. "Daddy come home."

Michael smiled at Roman, brushing his hair from his brow. “Soon,” he said, keeping his words to steady, one syllables because he felt scared to try anything longer. “Soon,” he repeated, looking up at Sara and reaching out to hold her hand tightly. He moved her hand to his heart, like he had the night before, only this time he didn’t have to say anything else as he smiled sweetly.

"Look at my boys." Sara moved to sit down next Roman on the bed. He smiled at his mommy and leaned forward. Looking back at Michael, Roman put his hand on Sara's stomach rubbing it. "Baaaaby."

“Yes,” Michael said to him with a smile. “Baby,” he nodded and the boy smiled, looking to Lincoln and repeating his words.

“Baby!” he called to his uncle in a high-pitched squeal.

Lincoln crossed his eyes and smirked at Michael and Sara. "He's probably too young for us to tell him it's my baby, right?"

Roman sat on his knees and bounced on the bed, content to be alone in a room with all his favorite people. He looked back to Michael. "Daddy no sick?"

“No,” Michael said shaking his head gently. “Daddy tired,” he added, twisting the truth. He looked to Sara with a wince, motioning to his bandage that had begun to unravel from his scratching. He gave her a pleading look and rearranged Roman in his arms, sitting him between his legs on he mattress and letting him trace the lines of his tattoo down his forearms.

Sara leaned over next to Michael, glancing to where his bandage was unraveling. "Honey, you can't scratch, okay? I know it's hard." She reached for the call button, pushing it and hoping a nurse would arrive soon. "Do you feel up to eating anything."

Roman glanced up at the mention of food. He pointed a finger to himself and giggled. "I get pop?"

“No!” Lincoln and Michael said in unison, looking at each other to laugh afterwards.

Michael returned his smile to Sara’s and lifted her hand to his head, gently pulling at his bandage and feeling it go slack. “Look for me,” he said slowly, looking to the door in case a nurse actually came in.

Sara nodded slowly, pressing her fingers on Roman's thighs. "Baby, stop bouncing. Be careful." Moving back to Michael's side, she glanced at the staples in his head. Tilting her head to the side, she felt something inside her chest constrict. He had been through so much. "It actually looks really good, baby. Looks like it hurts. But as long as you keep this bandage on and stop scratching! . . . I think it'll be okay. How's it feel?"

Michael let a small laugh escape his throat and he screwed his face up playfully. “Itchy…”

"Well, don't scratch it, okay?" Sara smirked at him as the nurse came in the room, smiling softly at Lincoln, then moving to quietly change Michael's bandage.

Sara smiled softly at Michael getting comfortable on the bed again. "Be a good boy and you might get a reward when you come home."

Lincoln scoffed quietly at the bedside. “I doubt Sara means cake, Mikey,” he said playfully, winking and nudging his brother with an elbow. Roman giggled at his uncle and began nudging him to his own elbows.

“I’ll be good,” Michael said with a smirk.

Sara smirked and cupped her hands around Roman's ears, drawing her baby boy in for a kiss. Keeping her hand on his ears, she glared at Lincoln. "Could you not teach my son sexual innuendo, please?" She let go of him as the nurse left the room. "What was with how she was looking at you, Linc?"

Michael laughed and unable to say the whole sentence he signed half of it. “Amazed…” he began and then gripped at the air around his neck, insinuating it was much bigger.

“You know, if you weren’t so cut up, I’d slap you,” Lincoln said but was unable to hide his twisted grin.

"Oh, my God." Sara glanced between the two of them. "Is Lincoln hitting on the nurse. Lincoln, you can not ask the nurse out!"

Roman let out a squeal of giggles. "Linc. . . nurse. . . out!!"

Michael nodded and smirked at his brother while Lincoln tried to redeem his self, failing horribly under Sara’s stern look. Roman hunched his shoulders and covered his smile with his hands. “Linc in trouble with mommy,” he laughed.

Sara moved back further onto the bed, pulling Roman onto her lap. "Roman, do me a favor and grow up to be like Mommy, okay? She has her work cut out with Daddy and Uncle Linc. She needs a good little boy."

Roman looked up to her and pressed his small, chubby palms to the side of her face. “Okay,” he said happily, giving her a wet kiss on the mouth and hugging her afterwards.

Sara reached for Michael's hand, intertwining their fingers together. "I missed you last night, baby. I forgot how lonely that bed was without you."

Michael gripped at her hand and pulled her closer to him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, pressing his finger to his lips in a silent remark of redemption and smirking broadly. “Kiss me,” he droned, his voice husky and almost a purr.

“Kiss Daddy!” Roman exclaimed, clapping loudly. “Kiss!” he sang happily, bouncing on the bed.

Sara leaned in closer to Michael, pressing her lips softly to his. She dropped her voice to a quiet whisper, so only he could hear. "Hurry home and I'll kiss you anywhere you want."

“Mmmm…” Michael hummed, smiling up at her and kissing her bottom lip mischievously. “I’d like that,” he said, looking into her eyes and gently stroking the inside of her wrist that rested next to his thigh.

Sara brought her hand up, resting it against his neck and then leaned in for another slow kiss. "I love you, Michael."

Lincoln glanced towards Roman. "Mommy and Daddy are always horny."

“What horny?” he said, tilting his head at his uncle.

Michael burst out laughing against Sara’s lips, making her scold him lightly when she looked between him and Lincoln with a scowl. “Sorry…” he looked sheepishly, pointing accusingly to Lincoln. “He made me laugh,” he said with a pout. “I love you…” he offered with a boyish grin.

Sara glared between Linc and Michael, then looked to Roman. "Baby, don't say that word."

Roman looked to his daddy who was still grinning. Glancing back to Sara, he shrieked, "Mommy horny!"

“Uh oh,” Lincoln said, sliding his chair backwards and out of her reach. “Now I’ve done it,” he laughed.

Michael tried to muffle his laughter but Sara quirked and eyebrow at him and narrow her eyes. “You wouldn’t hit me…would you?” he pouted. He knew what that look meant. It meant no surprise when he got home. No Sara kissing him anywhere he wanted. He gulped, swallowing his laugher and giving her his puppy dog eyes. “I love you…?”

"I love you too," Sara murmured, glancing down his body. She looked back to Roman, who was smiling mischievously.

She grinned at him. "Stop saying the word and Mommy will let you have all the pop you want then spend the night with Uncle Linc!"

“Wait…what?” Lincoln said quickly, his smile fading.

“Yaaaaaaaaaaaaay! Linc!” Roman squeaked, pushing himself to his feet and bouncing off the bed into his arms. Michael chuckled, watching his brother’s discomfort as Roman kneed him in the groin when he landed on his lap.

The sound of the door caught everyone’s attention and Dr. Rollins walked in followed by a gaggle of interns. Apparently, it was time for rounds. Dr. Rollins smiled at Sara and Michael, giving them a nod. “Okay, Dr. Patrick. This is your patient I believe. Please present,” he said, taking the chart from Michael’s bed and looking through it while his student spoke.

Dr. Patrick nodded, swung his hands behind his back and rocked nervously on his feet. “Michael Scofield, thirty six years old, admitted when tests positively identified EDS…”

“And what is EDS…Dr. Turner?” Dr. Rollins said, looking up form the chart and looking directly at the tall, blonde woman to his left. She stumbled on his question, looking to her peers for help as her cheeks began to blush. All five of the interns looked between each other and a few shrugged. “Dr. Patrick?” he said with a sigh.

“EDS is Episodic Dyscontrol Syndrome,” he said, nervously, knowing he was right but still having the feeling of doubt in his mind. “Mr. Scofield previously suffered head trauma and as a result, a section of his cingulated cortex was affecting his emotional control. Yesterday we operated, rebooting the section of brain tissue and so far, no episodes,” he finished with a nod while the other student took notes.

“Prognosis?” Dr. Rollins asked.

“Good to excellent,” Dr. Patrick added. “Mr. Scofield has entire memory, limb function and minimal bleeding. He should make a full recovery.”

“And how are we today Michael?” Dr. Rollins asked cheerily, hanging his chart back on his bed.

“Good,” Michael nodded.

“And you’re talking,” Dr. Rollins noted with a grin. “That’s fantastic,” he smiled at Sara. “Right, I’ll be back to check on you later,” he said, motioning for his troop of white coat clad interns to exit the room.

Sara smiled, squeezing Michael's wrist when the doctors left the room. "Wow. I think all of Chicago is working on you. But did you hear that? You're doing excellent." She felt like she wanted to cry again, but she pushed the feeling away. "So tonight I can start looking up vacation destinations?" She let out an excited giggle. "Oh, my God. Let's take him to Disney World."

“Yes!” Lincoln said excitedly. “Take me to Disney world!” Roman laughed and poked his finger into Lincoln’s eye.

“Take Roman! Not Linc!” he giggled, looking at his parents with a cheeky grin.

"See!" Sara turned to look at Michael. "Ro thinks Disney World is a good idea. Who wants to see Donald Duck!"

Roman let out a shriek and nodded. Sara turned back to Michael. "What do you say, Daddy?"

“Can daddy get better first?” He said in a tired voice, looking back at Sara. “Really…better?” he asked her in a quieter voice, tickling her forearm with his smooth fingertips.

Sara smiled softly at him. "Yes, Daddy can get really better. Mommy can't wait until Daddy's really better."

Lincoln snorted, looking from them. “I bet,” he scoffed quietly, hiding his smirk behind Roman’s back.

“Bet what?” Roman asked with a frown, his bottom lip pursed out and his eyebrows pulled together.

Michael and Sara both look to Lincoln with raised eyebrows and he tuned a little red. “Uh…I bet you, I can beat you to the cafeteria,” Lincoln said quickly, lifting the boy from his lap and standing after he had set him to the ground. “What do you say?” he asked Roman, ruffling his hair under his massive paw.

"I want pop!" Roman squeed. He giggled and waved to his Mommy and Daddy as Linc carried him out of the room. "Love yoooou!"

Sara smiled, turning back to Michael. "You look good."

Michael let a hand fall onto his chest as he laughed and promptly coughed. “I feel like crap,” he said with a faded voice. “You,” he pointed to her with a smile “You look good.”

"I'll have Linc take Roman home in a little bit," Sara murmured as she wiped a few beads of sweat of Michael's forehead. "Or I can go home with him if you want to hang out with Linc. Or we can all leave and let you rest. I just want you to get better." Ruffling her hair, she rolled her eyes. "I don't look that good."

“Well, if I rest now, you can come back later to see me. Just you,” he smiled, pulling her closer to him. “How’s that sound?” he croaked a little, leaning his head back into his pillows to look up at her with affection.

"That sounds great, baby." Sara leaned closer to him and pressed her lips softly to his throat. She placed several small kisses all over his neck, attempting to soothe his pain. "You should probably stop talking."

“I should,” Michael said with a nod. “I should do a lot of things…” he smirked, letting his eyes flutter closed when she kissed his jaw line. “You should go,” he gulped uncomfortably.

Sara placed a soft kiss to his mouth, then pulled away. "Oh yeah. Sorry. I didn't mean to ah. . ." She blushed a little and pulled away. "You realize I am going to be your love slave when you get home, right?" She backed slowly towards the door.

“Love slave?” Michael asked intrigued. He sat up a little in bed and looked at her excitedly. “Really?” he grinned boyishly. “When can I come home?” he smirked.

"When you're all better." She turned the doorknob and gave him a look. "Rest. I'll bring you dinner, okay? And I'll tell Ro you love him."

"I love you too," he added softly, waving to her gently as he relaxed back into the pillows.

"I love you more." Sara murmured, opening the door and going off in search of Lincoln and her son.


	51. Chapter 51

Sara smiled as she watched Michael sitting on the couch, Roman in his lap. Roman was going on a mile a minute, using half people words, half incoherent jabber. He was more than elated to have his Daddy back home. So was Sara. He looked good, and most importantly he looked happy.

Roman let out a happy giggle and smacked his fist happily against Michael's cheek. "Heeeey!" Sara moved over to pull Roman off Michael's lap. "Remember? Be easy with Daddy."

“It’s okay,” Michael smiled, ruffling Roman’s hair and looking at Sara. “I’m okay,” he said softly, letting his head fall back on the couch cushions. The staples holding his scalp together while it heal itched so he distracted himself with burying them in the cushions.

Sara smiled as she sunk down onto the comforter next to Roman and Michael. She brushed her hand through Roman's hair then smiled at her son. "Are you glad Daddy's home?"

Roman giggled, turning back to crawl in Michael's lap again. "Daddy no go bye bye again?"

Michael wrapped his arms around his son and hugged him to his chest. “I promise,” he said in a muffled voice, his lips pressed to Roman’s black hair on the top of his head. “Daddy’s not going anywhere ever again.”

Roman snuggled against Michael's chest and let out a happy sigh. He turned to Sara and held out his hand. "Mommy love Daddy?"

Sara nodded. "Mommy loves Daddy very, very much." She turned back to look at Michael. "How are you feeling?"

“A little achy,” he shrugged, running his hands up and Down Roman’s back while the boy fiddled with his mother’s hand against Michael’s chest. “My head hurts, but I did have brain surgery,” he laughed softly. “I’m really sorry I put you through that, Sara,” he said with a serious tone, staring intently at her and moving his hand to wrestles hers from Roman’s. “I love you more than anything.”

"It's not your fault, Michael. . ." Sara murmured softly, watching as Roman's eyes began to flutter shut. He murmured something and snuggled closer to Michael. Sara smiled and squeezed Michael's hand. "Really, it isn't your fault. All that matters is your here now. With us. And everything is okay."

Michael shook his head defiantly, tugging on her hand and squeezing it tighter. “I didn’t have to have surgery. You didn’t have to prepare for the worst, Sara. I’m just really sorry that you did, okay?” he smiled softly, his words barely a whisper as Roman sighed and balled Michael’s t-shirt in his fist as he slept.

"Don't say you're sorry." Sara leaned over a little bit and pressed her lips to his for a soft kiss. "Aren't you glad you did it now that it's all over? We don't have anything to worry about now." She brushed her hand over Roman's head, smiling as his lips curved up into a grin. "What do you think he dreams about?"

Michael leant over a bit, titling his head so he could see Roman’s features twist and peak with his dreams. Michael mirrored Sara’s smile and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him and resting his forehead against hers while they watched their son. “Knowing Roman…” Michael whispered. “…Probably Uncle Linc and a fountain of pop.”

Sara laughed softly turning her head so she could press a kiss to Michael's shoulder. "Are you excited we're having another one? We have to do the baby thing all over again."

Michael gave her a soft smile and nodded. “We need more. One is not enough,” he said gently, smoothing his hand through Roman’s hair. “And it doesn’t matter how big Roman gets, he’ll always be my baby,” Michael breathed, pressing his lips to Roman’s head again. “My first son.”

Sara smirked, looking up at him. "Your first son, hmm? She smoothed a hand over her stomach. “Does that mean you think baby number two is a boy too?"

Michael smirked and arched an eyebrow at her. “I’d like another son,” he said watching Roman sleep and pull his eyebrows together with a pout. “But I’d like a daughter someday too,” he smiled. “Why? How many children do you want?”

"Wow, what a question. . ." Sara arched an eyebrow and laughed quietly. "Maybe just two. I'd be happy if we could have a girl and a boy and then no more labor." She smiled at Michael. "But I can see why you'd want two boys."

Michael quirked and eyebrow and arched his neck to look down at her. “Oh yeah? And why would I want two boys?”

"You and Lincoln. How close you two are." Sara shrugged slightly. "I can imagine that you'd want that for your boys."

“Yes. Yes I would,” Michael nodded, fiddling with her hand and brushing his thumb over her palm as it rested next to his thigh on the couch. He quickly looked to her and grinned. “Minus the prison part though,” he smirked.

Sara smirked and continued to rub slow circles on her stomach. "Well, I think you might be disappointed."

Michael lost his smile and stared down at her. “Something you know that I don’t, Scofield?” he teased. “Something I miss whilst I was undergoing brain surgery and sedated for all that time?”

Sara giggled and shook her head. "No. Not exactly. It just. . . feels different, I guess."

“Different how?” Michael whispered, letting his hand slip from hers to rest on her stomach. “Or is this a mother’s intuition thing?” he smirked.

"Yes," Sara smirked. She nodded. "That's exactly it. Don't question me."

“Ooo!” Michael laughed, his chest jiggling Roman up and down. “Yes, mistress,” he teased, giving her a wink and a sly smile. “You know…” he began, stopping when Roman stirred and turned his face the other direction, heaving a sigh and relaxing back against his father’s chest. “…I think a boy and a girl would be perfect for us. A little copy of each of us.”

Sara smiled softly nodding her head. "I think you're right. I mean, I don't think I could deal with another carbon copy of Michael Scofield! And I have so many boys to take care of already." She rubbed her hand softly over Roman's back. "It's hard to imagine loving anyone as much as him."

Michael smiled down at Roman softly; listening to his little snorts and pants as he slept. “Yeah, I know,” he whispered. “But we can…and we will,” Michael turned to face her, letting his eyes fall to her flat stomach. “We have another baby now,” he smiled sweetly.

"We do," Sara nodded slowly. She smoothed her hand down her stomach then lifted up her shirt, exposing her flat stomach. She glanced up at him. "You're glad? Even though we agreed to stop trying?"

“Of course, stop asking me that!” Michael giggled softly, jiggling Roman on his chest. “Aren’t you?” he asked with a frown.

"Of course I am," Sara murmured softly. She furrowed her brow, then glanced up at him, her expression serious. "I wouldn't have been if something had happened to you."

“Well,” he said softly, lifting his hand to tuck a strand of stray hair behind her ear slowly. “Nothing happened to me. So you will never have to worry about being alone in this world, okay?” He said, cupping her face and sliding sideways on the couch so that his face was closer to hers. His thumb gently massaged her cheek and his held her gaze. “I mean it, Sara. Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”

"Well," Sara leaned in, pressing her mouth gently to his. "You haven't broken a promise yet. So I guess I'll just have to trust you." She trailed her lips along his jaw. "Do you feel like a little bedroom welcome home?"

Michael screwed his face up in thought before closing his eyes and sighing heavily. “I know this might sound like a really poor excuse…considering I was sedated for so long,” he laughed gently, opening his eyes to face her again. “But I am tired. And I think I need some pain killers,” he flinched a little when his head pounded. “Wanna take this little guy to his bed for me?” he said softly, nodding towards Roman.

"Of course," Sara murmured, leaning in for one more quick kiss. "I just hope you don't expect any kind of sexual antic to last long when you do feel up to it." She reached for Roman. "Come on, baby. Bedtime."

Roman turned away from her and clutched onto Michael's shirt. "No. Sleep with Daddy."

Michael moved to sit up a little, holding Roman under his armpits and lifting him higher up his body. “Baby…daddy isn’t tired,” he offered gently. “And he can’t carry you to bed in case he falls down,” he said, dipping his head to look into Roman’s dark blue orbs, a mirror image of his own.

Roman looked up at Michael, blinking his eyes slowly. His head dipped a little, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. "I no tired either."

“Oh, you’re such a bad liar, Ro-man!” Michael laughed, hugging his boy to his chest again. “Okay, how’s this…” he said, gaining the boy’s attention once more through a heavy lidded gaze. “…Daddy can carry you to the stairs, and mommy can carry you to bed?” he said softly, rubbing his hand up and down Roman’s back. Roman looked at him for a few second, considering his father’s words. “I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise,” Michael nodded.

Roman sighed and nodded slowly. He hooked his arm around Michael's neck, letting his eyes fall closed again. He mumbled something incoherent and sighed again, "Daddy. . ."

Michael scooted to the edge of the couch and mustered all the energy he had to stand whilst he clutched his son to his body. “Yes, buddy?”

Roman laid his head on Michael's shoulder, fluttering his eyes open. He raised his heavy head and placed a sloppy kiss to Michael's cheek. "Love you."

Michael turned around and gave Sara a smile. “I love you too, Ro,” he said softly, stroking the back of his son’s head and motioning for Sara to join him with a flick of his head.

Sara smiled and walked behind Michael and Roman. She pressed her hand to Michael's back and smiled at her son. "Can Mommy carry you upstairs now?"

Roman gave a weak nod and loosened his grip on Michael’s shirt, letting Michael lift him into his mother’s arm. Michael ruffled his hair again, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Sleep well little buddy,” he whispered, giving Sara a wink as she walked past them and began to climb the stairs. When they were gone, Michael pinched his eyes closed and grabbed his head, letting out a breath as he walked into the kitchen to find his medication Dr. Rollins had prescribed for the inevitable headaches that would follow.

Sara laid Roman down, sitting with him until he had fallen back asleep. Hurrying back downstairs, she found Michael in the kitchen, pills in hand. She gave him a sympathetic look, "Is it really bad?"

Michael let out a groan, threw his head back and flattened his palm to his open mouth, letting the long, red pills fall into his mouth. “It really is,” he said dryly, moving to the sink to pour some water into a glass. He gulped from the glass hungrily and the pills slid down his throat. “But I had brain surgery, right? They pulled my scalp off of my head and then stapled it shut,” he said slowly, finishing a mouthful of water. “I knew it would hurt, I just…not this bad,” he admitted.

"Baby. . ." Sara walked over to him, and pressed her hand to his back, rubbing in slow circles. She would give anything to be able to take his pain away. "I wish there was something I could do for you? Is there anything?"

Michael tried to shake his head back even that sent the blood pounding in his head off and he screwed his face up and winced a little. He lifted his hand to his forehead and pressed the heel of his palm against the skin there, applying pressure to his head. “Is it supposed to hurt this bad?” he asked softly with agitation in his voice.

"Baby, your head is stapled shut," Sara offered gently, squeezing his shoulder softly. She glanced at his medication. "Do you want me to call? See if I can get you on something a little stronger?"

“No, it’s okay,” Michael said sadly, brushing past her and stalking out of the kitchen. He flipped the light off in the lounge and pinched his eyes closed as he walked to the couch and sat down in the dark.

Sara followed him in and stood in front of the couch, her arms folded. "Baby, just let me call right now, okay? They can call the pharmacy, and I'll go pick it up right now."

Michael grabbed a cushion in his hands and bunched it up to his neck, falling slowly to the couch and lifting his feet onto the other end. “Do what you want,” Michael said quietly letting his eyes fall closed.

Sara leaned over him and pressed her hand to his head. He was hot. "I want to do what you want me to do."

Michael began to shiver on the couch and his brow began to sweat. He hugged his body tightly and his teeth began to chatter. “Sara…I don’t feel so good,” he whispered with a shaky voice.

Sara arched an eyebrow and took a step closer to him. "Baby, what's wrong?" She flipped the light on, noticing how pale he was. "Do you have to throw up?"

Michael peeled his eye open a little and looked up at her. He shook his head but it was unrecognizable through his shaking. He tucked one hand under his armpit and held the other one out for her, unable to hold it steady. “Maybe it’s a…a side affect of the pain killers?” he offered gently.

"Okay, you know what?" Sara squeezed his arm. "Can you stand up and walk for me?" She took a deep breath. "If not, let me help you to the car then I'll come back in and get Ro."

“What, no…” Michael said, twitching on the couch. “…I’m not going anywhere. Neither are you. I’ll be f…fine,” He stuttered, reaching behind him and dragging the blanket off the back of the couch. “I’ll j…just sleep it o…off.”

"No!" Sara snapped, pulling the blanket away from him. "We are going to the hospital right now. Can you stand up for me, please? I can help you to the car."

“I don’t think…” Michael said, sighing from the exhaustion of shivering. “Don’t…w…worry…” Michael said, his eyes rolling back into his head as he tried to stay awake. “I…never knew…” he rambled incoherently before going limp and passing out on the couch.

Sara kneeled on the floor, taking Michael's wrist and checking his pulse. She quickly moved to the phone and dialled 911. After they assured her and ambulance was on the way, she quickly dialled Lincoln. She knelt back down next to Michael, pressing her hand to his head. It wasn't long before she heard the wail of sirens and she went to open the door, finding Lincoln outside right behind the paramedics.

“Your husband collapsed, ma’am?” The first paramedic said as he walked through the door with his supply bag clutched tightly in his hand. He had a thick Texan accent that was out of place in the city but he had kind eyes and a soothing smile.

"Yes. . ." Sara nodded slowly. She heard a wail from Roman, and she motioned Lincoln upstairs. She quickly explained all his symptoms to the paramedic. "His pulse is stable. . . he just won't wake up."

“Okay…Michael?” The paramedic called to him as he knelt down beside the couch. He plucked a small torch from his breast pocket and shone it into Michael’s eyes one by one, noting that his pupil reaction time was considerably slower than normal. “Michael, can you hear me?” he repeated, turning to retrieve his stethoscope from his bag, plugging it into his ears and unbuttoning Michael’s shirt a few buttons to lay it on his chest. “How long as he been home?” he asked Sara, motioning to Michael’s stapled head.

Sara cleared her throat and pressed her hand to her forehead. "Ah. He just came home today."

The paramedic finished listening to Michael’s chest and whipped his stethoscope around and hung in loose at the back of his neck. “He has slightly depressed lung sounds on one side,” he noted out loud. “Has he ever had chest surgery?” he asked Sara, not turning to look at her as he prodded gloves fingers at the scars on Michael’s torso.

"Yes, he um. . . he had a collapsed lung once. . ." Sara cleared her throat. "Do you know what's wrong with him?"

“Did anything like this happen last time?” the paramedic asked her quickly, leaning further over Michael and pulling his shirt from his sweaty body. “He’s boiling up, ma’am…we need to cool him down. Could you get a wet towel for me please?” he asked her quickly, rummaging in his bag and pulling out some ice packs. He quickly bashed them in his palm, activating the coldness and placing them around Michael’s torso. “I think he has a post-operative infection. But we’ll have to take him to hospital to do some tests. Do you need to call anyone?” the Texan asked her softly, looking to her stairs when he heard Roman crying.

Sara quickly hurried and got him a towel. "No. My brother-in-law can stay here with my son, if I can come to the hospital with you?"

“Sure that’s fine,” he smiled at her, keeping remarkably calm. His partner carried a stretcher into the house and laid it down on the floor beside the couch. The two men muttered something between themselves that Sara didn’t really comprehend and then on three, they lifted Michael from the couch and laid his limp body onto the stretcher. One of them wrapped the cool towel over his torso and the other packed the area around him with the ice packs, resting his hand on Michael’s forehead and noting Michael was still very hot. They lifted Michael from the house and into the back of the ambulance and Sara strapped herself in for the bumpy ride back to the hospital.

“Michael?” The paramedic tried to wake him again as he placed an oxygen mask over his face. “Michael, can you hear me?”

Michael began to shiver as he peeled his eyes open when his body cooled down a bit. He mumbled something and looked to the huge, blonde haired man next to him. He could make out the whine of sirens and the flashing of red lights from the front window that illuminated the back of the ambulance. The paramedic looked at him and smiled.

“Michael, you overheated and passed out. We had to cool you down, that’s why you’re shivering, okay buddy?” The man’s thick Texan accent confused Michael for a second and he turned to look at Sara behind him. “You scared the hell outta you’re wife, you hear?” Michael followed his gaze and saw Sara strapped into a seat at the end of his stretcher, smiling at him weakly.

Sara leaned as close to Michael as they would let her and placed her hand on top of his. "Hey, don't worry. You're going to be just fine, okay? Linc is home with Roman."

Michael squeezed her hand tightly as the paramedic inserting a catheter into the back of his hand. “I’m just putting this in here so they can get some blood and give you some medication at the hospital, okay?” he shouted at Michael over the drone of the sirens overhead. Michael frowned and looked back to Sara, mumbling something into his mask that she didn’t understand.

Sara squeezed his hand a little tighter, trying not to burst into tears. "Oh, Michael. Don't try to talk, okay, baby? Just rest and it'll all be okay."

  
The hospital knew Michael was coming and Dr. Rollins was at the ambulance bay waiting for him. He handled his case, from when he arrived to when he was finally resting in his room, sitting up in his bed without anything on but his boxers with a tall floor fan pointing on him in an attempt to keep cool. Dr. Rollins knocked on the door gently and pushed it open, walking into the room and giving Sara a small smile.

“I’m sorry you guys are back,” he said towards Sara, flipping open Michael’s chart. “We got some test results back and it’s not good.”

Sara stood, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. "What do mean it's not good."

“Sara…” Michael warned gently, lolling his head sideways so the cool breeze from the fan blasted him in the face.

“Well, we have to go back in,” Dr. Rollins said sadly, handing Michael’s chart over to Sara. “Michael’s body is rejecting the titanium plates we used to put his skull back together. We need to replace them.”

"No, Michael!" Sara turned to him and raised her voice, shaking her head. "It's the same thing time and time again." She took a step closer to Dr. Rollins. "What? You need to do surgery again?! You couldn't have found this out when he was here last night?!"

“With all due respect, Mrs. Scofield,” Dr. Rollins said slowly, controlling his frustration. He had been working a thirty six hour shift and had stayed even longer when he heard Michael was coming back. “These things happen and they cannot be seen when the patient is lucid with a normal temperature.”

Sara kept her arms crossed in front of her and cleared her throat. "With all due respect, Dr. Rollins, what kind of consolation is that to me and my family?" She looked to Michael, then back to the doctor. "Just. Fix. It."

“Sara!” Michael snapped, gulping hard and panting when the outburst took more out him than he liked. “Dr. Rollins saved my life. My family life. Show the man some respect, please,” he muttered, letting his eyes fall closed as the fan blew cold air in his face.

“We have surgery scheduled immediately, Michael,” Dr. Rollins said to him. “It will just be an hour or so and you’ll be back in here with your wife,” he smiled and Michael nodded in response.

"I'm sorry. . ." Sara took a step towards Michael and pressed her hand to his cheek. "I'm sorry, baby." She looked back to Dr. Rollins, then cast her eyes to the ground. "I am sorry. It's just. . ."

“I know,” Dr. Rollins nodded and placed a caring hand to her shoulder. “If I were you, I’d be mad too,” he smiled, giving her arm a light squeeze before leaving the room and instructing a nurse to prep Michael was surgery.

“This is still all worth it,” Michael whispered, opening his eyes and looking around the room. He rubbed his hand across his eyes and felt the colour draining from his face. “I’d still do it again.”

Sara kept her jaw tight and tried to will the tears back. She managed to keep her angry expression but the tears fell anyway. "I can't take any more of this."

“Hey…” Michael said slowly, blinking for a prolonged period of time and holding out his hand to her. “…Please, don’t cry,” he whimpered softly. “I hate it when you cry…” he laughed timidly.

Sara sniffled and glanced down, wiping her eyes. She choked on a sob and shook her head. "I'm not crying!" She kept her gaze trained on her lap. "It's just one fucking thing after the other, Michael."

“I know, baby, and I’m sorry,” Michael said quietly. “We were told this could happen. We didn’t prepare for this because we were too busy preparing for me to not wake up, remember? This is minor, Sara. It’s not anyone’s fault.”

"I know. . ." Sara lifted her head and nodded, wiping her eyes. "God, I just want you home and I want you okay and I want things back to normal."

“They will be,” Michael nodded slowly, not taking his gaze from her when a nurse and two orderlies came into his room to take him to surgery. “I promise,” he said quickly.

Sara stood and pressed a kiss to his head. "I'll be waiting when you're done. I love you."

“I love you too,” Michael smiled sweetly as he was wheeled past her and out of the room.

“Mrs. Scofield?” The nurse said when Michael was gone from the room. “A Lincoln Burrows is waiting for you in the family room,” he smiled softly, relaying the message from the front desk and following Michael’s gurney with the fan.

Sara gave one last glance to Michael, then walked briskly to the waiting area. She was pleased to see Lincoln was the only one there. "He's in surgery."

“So I heard,” Lincoln said quickly, folding his arms over his chest. “What happened?”

"They did something wrong. . ." Sara spat out, pacing around the room. "They did something wrong again, Linc!" She pressed her hands to her head. "Again. Again. And I'm sure they'll find something to fuck up now!"

“Hey, whoa, calm down, Sara,” Lincoln said, taken back by her sudden anger. “Who fucked up? What’s going on?” he asked panicked, shaking his head and uncrossing his arms as his eyes followed her pacing around the room.

Sara continued to move around the room. "The hospital once again. . ." She motioned around her head. "His head, his body is rejecting what they put in. . ." She made a face, trying to hold back her tears. "He's in surgery, Linc! Again! I can't do this."

“Okay,” Lincoln said, mainly to himself. He walked over to her and grabbed her shoulders, stopping her pacing and making him look at her. “You need to calm down,” he said slowly, looking down her body to her stomach.

"No. . . no!" Sara jerked from his grasp, shaking her head. "You don't touch me! You don't touch me right." She continued her pacing, catching her foot on a chair and almost tripping. "You know what? We are going to fucking own this hospital. Michael? He's never going to have to work again."

Lincoln pulled his hands from her quickly and took a step back. He had never seen Sara so angry and intent on revenge. “Sara, if you don’t shut up and sit down, Michael will never want to work again,” he said firmly, pointing to her stomach again. “You have bigger things to worry about than some hospital fuck up,” Lincoln snapped, dragging a chair from the edge of the room and sliding it towards her. “Now sit down!”

"No!" Sara snapped, looking away from the chair. "No. Just. . . just. . ." She took a step back and leaned forward. "Shit."

“What?” Lincoln looked at her hunched figure quickly. He moved to her side and watched her clutching her abdomen. “Sara, talk to me!” he demanded urgently.

"It. . ." She squeezed her eyes shut and reached for Lincoln's arm. "Shit," she repeated. "Linc. . ."

“Uh…okay…” Lincoln said, looking around the room in a panic. He reached for the door handle and pulled it open, yelling into the hall. “Help! We need some help!”

"Stop. . ." Sara dropped her voice to a hiss and closed her eyes, leaning against the wall. "It'll pass. It'll pass. . ."

Lincoln looked between her and the open door for a second and third time and finally he went pale when he refocused his eyes on her. “Oh my god, Sara…you’re bleeding,” Lincoln said quietly, his breathing becoming shallow as he frowned at Sara’s crimson stained jeans. “That’s not normal, right? I can call for help now?”

Sara took a hold of Lincoln's arm again, squeezing hard. She swallowed and shook her head quickly. "Lincoln, I . . . it hurts."

“Come on…” Lincoln said firmly, looping Sara’s arm around his neck and lifting her into his arms with a painful groan. He kicked the door open and stumbled out into the hall, looking for the nearest doctor. “You!” he yelled, pacing down the corridor quickly. “We need some help!”

Sara clutched onto Lincoln's arm, trying to catch her breath. "This is my fault. This is all my fault." She inhaled deeply. "You need to go wait for Michael, okay?"

“What about you?” Lincoln panted gruffly as he carried her down the hall. A young nurse waved him into an examination room and he followed obediently. “I can’t just leave you.”

Sara took a deep breath as Lincoln set her an on examination table. "Linc, you can't be in here anyway, okay?" She pressed a hand to her stomach. "I need you to be there for Michael."

Lincoln nodded and took a few steps back from her, rubbing his hands over his hair and letting out a panicked breath. “What do I tell him?” He said quietly.

“Mrs. Scofield, how far along are you?” one of the nurses said, drawing up a chart. She turned and looked at Lincoln over the top of her fine framed glasses. “You can’t be here, Sir,” she said, pointing her pen towards the door.

"Eight weeks. . ." Sara responded, pressing a hand to her stomach and wincing as another pain shot through her. She looked at Lincoln. "See how he feels before you decide what to tell him."

“Okay…okay…” Lincoln repeated, nodding as he left the room. He bolted through the hospital, checking his watch as he rounded the last corner onto the ward where Michael was being kept. He saw a doctor filter from his room and the man gave Lincoln a confident smile as he passed him, jotting something on a chart and heading down the corridor. Lincoln pressed his face to the glass in Michael’s room and saw him laying on the bed, redressed in a gown with his head bandaged again. He looked asleep but stirred when Lincoln entered the room.

Lincoln walked over to Michael's bed, sitting down in a chair. He sighed and put his head in his hands. He didn't think he could lie to Michael, no matter how badly off he was. "You awake, bud?"

Michael rolled over with a sigh, fixing his eyes on Lincoln and looking around confused. “Where’s Sara?” he asked, blinking groggily. They surgeons had woken him up in the theatre and let him sleep some of his anaesthetic off before bringing back to his room.

"She's ah. . ." Lincoln stood up and leaned against the bed. "She asked me to come make sure you're okay."

“I’m fine…” Michael said slowly, narrowing his eyes on his brother’s uncomfortably hunched figure. “What aren’t you telling me?” he said quietly, feeling his skin prickle with anticipation and gulping hard. When his brother didn’t answer and averted his gaze he lowered his voice to a firm tone. “Linc…tell me.”

Lincoln sighed and stood up straight, rubbing his hand over his head. "Michael. . ." He took a deep breath and leaned back down. "How are you feeling?"

Michael pushed himself up into a sit on shaking elbows and swallowed at the dryness in his throat. “I’d be a lot better if you just told me where Sara was,” he snapped, irritated. “Where is she, Lincoln?”

Lincoln crossed his arms and sighed, glancing away. "She got really upset, Michael. Really upset. I'm not sure what happened. But she started. . . bleeding. She's in an exam room."

“What!?” Michael yelled, throwing back his covers and using all the energy he could muster to throw his legs over the edge of the bed. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he spat at his brother, grabbing Lincoln’s arm for leverage as he pulled himself up and stood barefoot on the floor. “Where is she exactly?” Michael said hurriedly, tearing his IV from the back of his hand and throwing it onto the bed behind him. He had some monitors covering his heart and checking the saturation levels of oxygen in his blood, but when he pulled those from his skin with a ripping sound, the machines began to beep furiously.

"Michael! Michael. . ." Lincoln pressed onto his shoulders, trying to get him to sit down. "You need to rest, okay? She wants you to rest."

“I don’t care!” Michael cried, fighting his brother’s gentle pushing. He pushed against Lincoln’s body and stumbled from the bed towards the door. “Is it the baby? Is she losing our baby?” Michael demanded desperately, pulling the door open.

Michael bumped into a nurse coming to his room and she grabbed him by the shoulders. “Mr. Scofield, you need to get back into bed, please,” she said softly but Michael shrugged her off and ignored her.

“Not until I see my wife,” Michael yelled turning back towards Lincoln as he staggered along the wall of the hospital. “Where is she?”

"Michael. You can't do anything!" Lincoln raised his voice. He pressed his hand to Michael's shoulder. "Do you think her seeing you like this is going to help her? Or the baby?"

Michael shrugged off Lincoln’s hand and spun to face him. “It might!” he snapped, waving his hand in the air. “I can be with her. That’s what I can do,” he mumbled to himself, turning from his brother and blinking a few times as he walked down the corridor still dizzy from his surgery. “Sara’s always being strong. Holding me together and sacrificing herself. I need to be there for her,” Michael growled, stumbling into the wall and banging his shoulder against a metal rack of supplies.

Lincoln placed his hand on Michael's arm and helped him stand up straight. "Fine. I'll take you to her." He took a deep breath. "But you have to be calm, alright?"

“Fine. I’ll be calm. Just take me to her, Linc,” Michael said, throwing his arm over his brother’s shoulder and letting the larger man take his weight.

Lincoln led him down the hallway and to the room Sara was in. He peaked in quickly and saw her sitting on the bed, dressed in a hospital gown. He motioned to Michael. "You want me to go in with you?"

“No, I’ll be okay. You can go call LJ and make sure Roman is okay. Please,” Michael said quietly, whispering outside the door. He turned his head and looked into the room. Sara was staring off to one side, her hands resting gently across her stomach and she looked liked she had cried. Michael took a deep breath and pushed the handle downwards, stepping into the space of the doorframe and calling her name softly. “Sara?”

"Michael?" Sara sat up a little and looked over at him. She bit her bottom lip. "What are you doing here? You should be resting."

Michael gave her a weak smile and walked through the rest of the door, shuffling to her side. “Just…stop worrying about me for a second. What happened?” he said tenderly, taking her hand in his and sitting next to her bed in a chair.

Sara sat up a little more, squeezing his hand. "I'm sorry. I just. . . the thought of something being wrong with you again, Michael. I flipped out. This is my fault."

“Hey…this is nobody’s fault,” Michael soothed, his voice still a little scratchy from his surgery. He leant forward and rested to the edge of his seat, reaching out and tucking some of Sara’s hair behind her ear. “Are you okay? Is…is the baby okay? “ Michael said slowly, lowering his head and preparing his heart for the worst.

Sara squeezed Michael's hand before letting it go. She motioned to her heart monitor, and pointed to the little number, under her big one. "See that? That's her heart rate. It's a little weak, so they want to keep me here for awhile and make sure she's really okay."

Michael broke into a smile and let a relieved laugh escape him. “Her?” he coughed, grinning wildly. “We have a baby girl?” he whispered softly, clutching her hand between his and holding it to his lips as his tears welled up in his eyes.

Sara laughed softly and felt a rush of tears when she saw that he was crying. "We have a baby girl." She grinned and shook her head. "Turns out I'm a little father along than we expected."

“You are?” Michael frowned a little, still smiling. “How far are you?” he asked, not tearing his eyes from hers as he dropped one of his hands from hers and smoothed his hand over her belly.

"Three months. . ." Sara told him softly. She watched his expression change. "I know, right? I guess we've been a little distracted lately. They lectured me on how stressed I've been." She sighed, laying her head on her pillow. "How are you feeling?

“Three months!” Michael said dumbfounded. “But…you’re…you could see you were pregnant with Roman!” he giggled excitedly. “Oh my God, Sara. A little girl,” he breathed, sighing proudly. He leant back in his chair and pointed to his head with a twisted smile. “They took the titanium out…replaced it with a durable plastic or something…it’s more natural apparently and my body should like this much better.”

"Good. . ." Sara leaned over on the bed and placed her hand on his cheek. "Are you feeling better? You look like you are." She fluttered her eyes closed. "I am so done with hospitals."

Michael nodded and leaned into her touch. “Me too. Like you wouldn’t believe!”

 


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All healed up and home, Michael has returned to work, but there are some issues with an ex wife...

Sara set the mail on the counter, pausing when she saw a light blue envelope. It was addressed to Michael in very feminine handwriting. She studied it for a moment before glancing to the return address. 'N. Volek' stared back up at her. She cleared her throat and examined the envelope for another minute, trying to decide what to do. She could open it, right? She and Michael were married. What was his, was hers. Except for an ex-wife. She didn't have an ex-wife.

Clearing her throat again, she ripped the envelope open, wrinkling her nose at the scented paper. "Dearest Michael. . . I know we haven't spoken in awhile. And I know you think you're happy with her. I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry. I do still love you, Michael. Very much. What we could have had plays through my mind every day. A real marriage. Children. For now, I know you think you're happy. When you realize she isn't what you need, you know you can --" Sara's jaw dropped open and she set the letter down on the counter. She had read enough.

"You okay?" Michael soothing voice came from behind her just as she dropped the letter. He closed the door silently behind him, even quieter then he had opened it and he smiled at her as he slid his jacket off his shoulders. "Where's Ro?" Michael asked, looking around the corner into the lounge.

"Taking a nap." Sara smoothed on the letter and kept her gaze on the counter. "We um, we played a lot today. Ran around. He's ah. . ." She cleared her throat. "He was pretty worn out."

Michael loosened his tie and unbuttoned his sleeves. "And you're sure you're okay?" Michael asked her softly with a slight frown. "You look pale," Michael noted, rolling one sleeve up before the other.

Sara slapped the letter against his chest. "There's some leftover chicken in the fridge." Without waiting for a response, she moved back into the lounge, tossing herself down onto the couch.

Michael was taken back by Sara's sudden anger and he grabbed the letter and scanned over it briefly. It was from Nika. After all the times he had told her never to contact him again, she had sent him a letter. And Sara had read it first. Michael stalked after her into the lounge, waving the letter. "Sara..." he started but stumbled over the next words that left his mouth as breathy grunts and the sound of words starting.

"You know what? Just don't." Sara held up her hand and shook her head. "Just don't." She reached for a magazine, flipping it open. "There's nothing you can say to make any of what she said go away. So. Just. Don't."

"You think she sent this because I..." Michael started but bit his words back, rubbing his hand over his jaw. "How could you?"

Sara glanced up at him, rolling her eyes. "No, I don't think you're sleeping with her, Michael. But --" She took a deep breath and shook her head. "There's got to be something to make her think sending that would even do any good!"

"So, what? You think I've been sneaking off? Leading her to believe I am unhappy?" Michael snapped. "Sara, I haven't seen her since that time in the supermarket. I swear on Roman's life," he spat angrily.

"Don't you swear on our son's life!" Sara stood up and pointed her finger at him, keeping her voice hushed. "I just -- " She shook her head, turning away. "Just imagine how it feels reading something like that, okay?"

"And why did you read it, huh?" Michael asked her with a tilt of his head. "Last time I check, I was Michael Scofield," he growled quietly, leaning forward and stabbing himself in the chest with his fingers. "I would have told you she'd sent it."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sara spat out with a roll of her eyes. "I'll stay out of your shit from now on, okay? I'm sure you don't want me to come across anything else she might send!" She lowered her voice to a hiss. "You know how I feel about her. You would not have shown me that letter."

Michael opened his mouth to object but changed his mind at the last second. "Sara, I would have told you the second I read it. Look where lying got me last time. I almost lost you once, I can't lose you again," he looked away from her giving himself only a second to feel sorry for himself. "Besides," he added hastily. "You know how I feel about her too. Nothing. I feel nothing for her, Sara. I never have, and I never will."

Sara collapsed back down to the couch, letting out a frustrated sigh. "It's just that everyone is always judging us, Michael. Everyone is always questioning what we have. I get so sick of it."

Michael threw back his head and let out a sigh. His eyes fell closed and he rested his hands on his hips. "If you're so sick of it, then why do you have so little trust for me?" Michael said, lolling his head back forward to look at her. "How are people supposed to stop judging us if you don't?"

"I don't judge us! I trust you, Michael!" Sara sputtered out, leaning forward and crossing her arms. She studied him closely and shook her head. "You really don't think I trust you? After everything?"

"I don't know!" Michael yelled, waving the letter at her. "This. Opening my mail. Getting angry rather than believing I love you and no one else. Sara, it doesn't sound like you trust me," he sighed.

Sara opened her mouth to yell at him, but a wail of "Mommmmmmy!" interrupted her. She gave Michael a look and shook her head, heading for the stairs. "It has nothing to do with how much you love me. It has to do with how she looks at me and how she views the relationship you and I have worked so hard to build."

Michael followed her, grabbing her elbow and stopping her from going upstairs. "I can't stop her, Sara. I can't stop her from thinking those things. She's insane! No sane person would believe I would do that to you. I wouldn't...do that to you," he breathed.

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaddy!" Roman's cries echoed in his room, shaking through the walls to the foot of the stairs where they were standing.

Sara let out a quiet breath. "Michael, I just --" Before she could finish her sentence, Roman wailed again. "Michael, he wants us." Pulling her arm away from his touch she hurried up to her son's room. As soon as he saw his Mommy's face his sobs turned to a squeal of happiness. He held his arms out to her. "Mommy! Daddy?"

"I'm here big guy," Michael bounded up the last few steps and across the hall into Roman's room. "Daddy's here," he smiled at his son, ignoring the glare from Sara when Roman jumped to his feet and lifted his arms high above his head until Michael lifted him up.

Roman let out a content slew of babble when Michael picked him up. He giggled happily and wrapped his hands around his daddy's neck. "Daddy!"

Sara leaned against the wall and watched as Michael spun Roman around the room like an airplane. Roman's merry squeals filled the room and she found herself fighting a smile.

Michael spun one last time, making a loud plane noise before stopped to look at Sara. "We can talk later," he panted, rearranging Roman on his hip while the boy tugged on his tie playfully.

"Again! Again!" the boy yelled, pulling at the silky fabric forcefully. Michael made a faux gagging sound and rolled his son in his arms, tickling his sides with a playful growl.

A giggle finally escaped Sara's lips as Roman tugged on Michael's tie. She walked slowly over to them, wrapping her arm around Michael's body and smooshing Roman between the two of them. "It's a Roman sandwiiiiich!" She smiled up at Michael, speaking above her son's giggles. "We don't have anything we need to talk about."

Michael smiled back and nodded a thank you. "I'll send the letter back. I'll put 'not at this address' and she should leave us alone," he nodded again, wrapping an arm around her body and holding her close. Roman laugh hysterically in between them, slapping Michael's face with a high pitched shriek. Michael flinched as the boy hit him and then laughed at his father's pain. "You sure you want more?" Michael asked Sara pathetically, closing his eyes when another playful slap hit is cheek.

Sara nodded slowly, then giggled as Roman continued his assault on his father's body. She considered his question carefully, then nodded slowly. "Michael. . ." She dropped her voice.

"We're pregnant," Michael squeaked, ignoring Roman who plowed into his knees with a toy train. "We're having another baby. That's all that matters to me," Michel babbled, totally brushing off the letter.

"I. . ." Sara trailed off and shrugged, taking another step into him. She pressed her hand to his chest. She paused and looked up to meet his eyes. “I'm sorry about overreacting to the letter, okay? I just. . .You're okay, right? This is good. We want another baby, don't we?"

"Yes!" Michael shouted, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off the floor. He tilted his head backwards and pressed his smile to hers, loosening his grip and letting her slide down his body until her feet were back on the floor. His cries of joy shocked Roman and he frowned, fell back against the floor and burst into tears. Michael pulled his lips from Sara's and looked down at Roman, shaking with sobs on the floor. "Oh, Roman..." Michael laughed gently, plucking the boy from the floor and kissing the side of his head.

Roman laid his head against Michael's shoulder, calming down from his cries slowly. Sara leaned in and kissed Roman's cheek. "It's okay, baby."

She looked back to Michael. "You're happy?"

"Yes and no," Michael admitted, bouncing Roman who wiped his face across Michael's shirt. "Yes because we are having another baby, which is what we wanted," he smiled proudly. "No, because now we can stop trying to hard," he pouted with a smirk.

Sara ran one hand through Roman's thick black hair and flattened her other palm against the back of Michael's neck. She drew him in for a kiss. "We can stop trying and start. . . celebrating."

Michael's eyes flickered down to her lips and he licked his slowly, tasting her on his lips. "Celebrating, eh?" he grinned. "I like the sound of that."

"Oh, do you?" Sara whispered, running her hand slowly down his side. "Well, if you like the sound of it, I bet you'll like the actual act of doing it much, much more."

"Oh, you know I always like the sex, baby," he purred, closing the gap between them and planting his mouth to hers slowly.

"Me too," Sara let out a throaty groan against his mouth. She kissed him for several seconds, opening her mouth and inviting his tongue in. Their moment was interrupted by a loud giggle. "Mommy! Daddy!"

Michael smirked against Sara's mouth before parting from her lips and staring at Roman with a wide, open mouthed gasp. "Roman Michael!" he exaggerated, bouncing the boy on ever word. Roman giggled at his name and his father's antics. "Where did you come from?" He squealed before turning to Sara with a frown. "Did you see him there, mommy?" he asked playfully, turning his body so Roman was facing his mother, biting down on his finger with a grin.

"Nooooo!" Sara grinned. She leaned in, tickling her little boy's tummy. He giggled and held his arms out to her, a trail of drool dripping onto Michael. "Who wants a bath? Who wants Daddy to give them a bath?"

Michael pulled a face when Roman drooled onto his shirt. "I want a bath," Michael announced, lifting his head to look at Sara boyishly. "But I want mommy to bathe me," he smirked again, winking at Sara as Roman leaned over in his arms for Sara.

Sara took Roman and kissed him on the head before sending a coy smile in Michael's direction. "Oh, I think we can work something out. Maybe a nice, long bubble bath after this one is all clean and tucked in bed." She smiled at Roman. "Mommy is so good to Daddy."

"Mommy...t...daddy!" Roman squealed, stumbling over the middle words as he tried to repeat them. Michael let out a laugh and moved to fetch a clean onesie from Roman's drawers.

"Nearly, Ro," he said with a smile. Michael handed Sara the new clothes and walked past her. "I'll go run him a bath," he said, kissing Roman on the cheek again and smoothing his hand over his hair.

Sara bounced Roman up and down on her hip while Michael moved into the bathroom. "Who's ready for a bath?" Roman giggled merrily and cried out, "Daddy!" Sara didn't know what it was, but bath time was especially fun for Roman when Michael was around. If Michael had to work late, Roman would often throw a fit and refuse to get in the tub.

Filling the bath just enough for the yearling, Michael swished his hand through the water making sure it was warm enough. Over the past year, he had not needed to use his elbow anymore, having found the perfect temperature by feel alone. He shook the excess water from his hand and stood up, plucking some bath toys from the chrome shelf unit above the corner of the bath and resting a bottle of baby soft body wash to the corner of the tub. "Roman!" he sang and could hear the giggling from the other room.

Sara sat Roman on the ground and followed her giggling, waddling little boy into the bathroom. She perched on the toilet and smiled, watching as Michael shed his shirt. She tilted her head to the side, "Finally figure you might as well take it off since he'll soak you anyway?"

"Yes," Michael answered simply with a nod. He lifted Roman above the bath and the boy made some excited puffs and kicked his legs. "It has taken me over a year, but I have learned," he smiled at her, lowering Roman into the warm water.

Sara let out a loud laugh as Roman smacked his hands into the water, squealing with delight. Water flew everywhere and she glanced down, hiding her smirk. Roman never ceased to make a mess, but Michael had never once gotten aggravated with him about it. Sara leaned back, crossing her ankles. "This is a pretty nice view."

"Of my back?" Michael asked her, not turning around to look at her as he used a tiny round sponge to wet Roman's hair. The toddler's eyes fluttered closed and he panicked briefly as the water trickled down his face. Michael's back rippled and flexed with every movement, even more so as he lathered some baby shampoo into Roman's black locks. "You think backs are sexy?" he asked her smoothly, rinsing out Roman's bubbly hair and wiping his face dry with the sponge.

"I think your back is sexy," Sara murmured. Hesitating only briefly, she went and kneeled down behind him. She brought her hand up tracing down his neck and over his shoulder blades. "You have these sexy muscles. And I'm telling you, baby, the tattoos only add to how hot it is."

"I knew it," Michael cheered and Roman splashed harder into the water, pausing to look up at his dad with a gappy toothed smile. He took a deep breath and leaned further over the bath. "Mommy like daddy's tattoos," he cooed and Roman laughed, biting on a rubber duck toy that was floating past him.

"Mommy loves Daddy's tattoos," Sara smirked. She leaned over the bathtub. Grabbing one of Roman's bathtub crayons she drew a pretty pathetic portrait on the wall of three stick figures, a house, and a sunshine. "Look, Ro! It's Mommy, Daddy and you!"

Michael frowned and tilted his head. "Where are my tattoos?" he said with a quirked eyebrow. "And my super sexy glasses?" he pouted, turning to look at her with wide, sad eyes.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Daddy is so silly, Roman. You better grow up to be just like Mommy, okay?!" Roman giggled his agreement and splashed water on Michael. Sarah smirked at them and added glasses to stick-Michael and some squiggly lines to his arms and legs. "Better?"

"Much," he said, leaning into her for a kiss. His pressed his lips to hers and repeated the action a few times, just getting ready to add his tongue to the party when a wave of water hit him in the face. Michael pinched his eyes closed and pulled away from Sara, who laughed with Roman. "How come he never get you?" Michael asked suspiciously.

"Because we have a deal worked on. Don't we, buddy?" Sara leaned into the tub and gave Roman a kiss on his cheek. "Roman and Mommy are good buddies."

"Oh yeah?" Michael said with a glare. He leaned over the tub and cupped his hand under the water, lifting it quickly and splashing Sara right in the face. "Now who's laughing, Mommy?" Michael grinned at Roman who threw a duck to the end of the tub and picked up another toy.

Sara let out a gasp and turned to Michael. She shook her head slowly and cupped her own handful of water, tossing it quickly at him. She shifted away. "Don't you dare get me back. I am with child.'

"Hmmm..." Michael contemplated her plea, his hand already under the water. "You're right," he said finally, shuffled closer to her along the edge of the bath. He left his hand dangling over the bath and pulled her face to his for a kiss. With a wicked smirk,he was unable to hide, Michael lifted the sponge from the water and squeeze the water out of it over Sara's head. Roman squealed and clapped against the water.

Sara gasped and maneuvered away from Michael, giving him a look. She glanced back and forth from her giggling son to her grinning husband and couldn't help but smile. "You are definitely not getting your bath tonight, Scofield."

"Okay, I'm sorry," Michael said weakly. "Please, can I get a mommy bath tonight? Please?" he pursed his bottom lip out and crawled towards her on his hands and knees, keeping an eye on Roman all the while. "You promised," he pouted, breathing his words against her face as he teased her lips with the prospect of another kiss.

"Well, I'm not one to break a promise." Sara pressed her lips to his for a quick kiss. "But you're going to give me a massage when we're done." She turned back to Roman. "Who's all clean and ready to get dried off?"

Roman let out a giggle and splashed harder against the water, stopping to blink from thing droplets that spilled down his face. Michel laughed at his son and handed Sara a towel. She held it open while Michael lifted Roman from the soapy bath and handed him to her. "All clean for Mommy," Michael sang, turned back to pull the plug and empty the water from Roman's toys.

"Look at you!" Sara toweled him off and patted his belly while he giggled. "You're a chubby little man, aren't you!" She wrapped the towel around him and pulled him to her chest, pressing a kiss to his wet, soft, clean hair. "You get that from your daddy."

"Hey!" Michael protested, standing erect and smoothing his hands down his abdomen. "You think I’m...chubby?" he asked, spying himself in the mirror and turning to the side.

"Well. . ." Sara smirked as Roman kicked his legs. She tickled his toes and he fell back against her, cackling with his baby laughter. "I think you're not as skinny as the day you walked into my infirmary." She smirked. "But I'm not either."

"Hey, if you want me thinner again, I can go back to prison?" Michael offered. "The food was...very low fat," he laughed. "I'll be infirmary thin in no time."

Sara started to respond, but Roman giggled and wiggled off her lap, trotting naked to his dad. He looked up at him. "Priii. . . priiison?"

"Uh..." Michael stuttered, looking up at Sara with a pleading glance. "It's...uh..." he said slowly, trying to think. He couldn't say that prison was where bad people go, because both he and Uncle Linc had been there, and Roman knew they were not bad. "Well..." he said, trying another approach with a frown.

Sara gave Michael a sympathetic look and wrapped the towel around Roman, picking him up and carrying him back towards his bedroom. "Prison is where Mommy used to work! Daddy visited her there."

"Thank you," Michael mouthed as she left the bathroom. Sara was more than his wife, the mother of his children and his best friend, she was his savior. Michael moved to let the water out of the bath and replaced the plug to run himself a hotter one. The steam from the taps evaporated from the white porcelain and filled the room. Michael walked to the door, pushing it closed half way so Sara could get Roman off to sleep without the clapping noise of the water hitting the already half filled tub. He yawned, feeling sleepy all of a sudden before sliding off his socks and his pants, placing them in the laundry.

Sara rocked Roman to sleep for about ten minutes before his eyes finally fluttered clothes. She laid him in his bed and tiptoed into the bathroom. "He's out pretty good."

Michael had slid into the bath and peeled his eyes open at her words. "Good," Michael said slowly, his voice changed by his light slumber. His arm rested on the edge of the bath and his body was hidden beneath a sea of bubbles, while his head laid back against the porcelain.

Sara smirked and moved further into the bathroom. She perched on the edge of the tub next to him and ran her fingers over his shoulder. "Comfortable?"

Michael's eyes fell closed again, his body warmed to the perfect temperature in the water and he sighed contently. "Very much so," he said relaxed. "I hate the office," he declared quietly, his words having even more meaning now he was healed and had returned to work.

Sara moved her hands up, brushing them across his forehead. "My poor baby." She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "You should take some vacation time."

Michael shook his head slowly, letting Sara's hand paint patterns on his skin. "I should...but I can't," he admitted sadly, shifting his body in the water. Ever since his accident his back had been a tiny bit painful once it was heated in a bath, or cooled in the winter weather, and he flinched a little as he moved. He dipped his hand under the water and scooped some of the hot, bubbly liquid up onto his chest. "CEO's can't take vacation this time of year."

Sara moved from her seat on the edge of the top to where she was kneeling beside it. She ran her hands through the water and looked up at him. "You don't have to do it, you know. This job. If you don't like it. We don't need that kind of money, Michael." She brushed her lips against his. "I just want you to be happy."

"I'm happy," he said, peeling his eyes open to look at her. "I really am happy," he smiled softly kissing her again and running his hand down her face. "This job is easy. And the money is fantastic. I'll just need some TLC on office days," he smirked, letting his hands fall back into the water.

Sara moved her lips down his neck, sucking gently at the damp skin. She trailed her hand lower on his chest, moving it down into the water. "Too tired for some TLC right now?"

Michael caught her hand and chuckled lightly. "Honestly? Yes," he said slowly, letting another yawn escape him. "I meant...just..." he paused, lifting her hand and brushing his lips across her knuckles. "You promised me a bath, Mommy," he smiled up at her.

"I did, didn't I?" Sara trailed her fingers along the water. She smirked and reached for the sponge, dipping it in the water. "Do you want me to rub you down?"

Michael gripped at the slippery edge of the bath and pulled himself into a sit. "Yes please," he said with an almost relieved tone to his voice. "I need some special care," he said softly, letting his eyes fall closed again as he slumped in the middle of the tub.

Sara reached for the body wash and squirted a pink dollop onto the sponge. She turned back to Michael and pressed the sponge to his shoulder, lowering her voice. "And what areas need my special attention?"

Michael let a moan escape his throat as Sara rubbed the sponge over his skin. His skin began to open up, becoming alive and fresh with each rub. "Ooo...right there," Michael groaned as Sara massaged his lower back. With a slight flinch, he moved forward in the bath, hissing quietly before relaxing again, letting Sara move his entire body as she washed him.

Sara moved her gentle massaging to his front, wrapping her arms around him and massaging the sponge down his torso. She noticed her shirt was getting completely soaked but she didn't care. Smiling, she placed a kiss to the back of his neck as her hands moved lower.

"Sara..." Michael warned on a whimper, leaning back against her chest and letting his head rest to her shoulder. His eyes fluttered closed again and he gulped hard, letting one hand fall under the water beside him and lifting his other to pin Sara's to his chest. "I feel like I have no energy," he said quietly, planting a kiss to the inside of her elbow.

"Okay," Sara murmured, wrapping her arms around him. She pressed a quick kiss to his ear, pressing her forehead to the side of his head. "No sex tonight. We can just go to bed early and cuddle. How does cuddling sound?"

"Oh baby," Michael smiled. "I'd love to just hold you tonight."


	53. Chapter 53

"Mmm...baby...yeah," Michael moaned, rolling over in bed and his face twisting with a smile. His dream was vivid and it was fantastic. There were no screaming toddlers and Sara was wearing less than he could have imagined. He shifted under the sheets, gripping it to his waist as his hand fell limp against his chest. He let out a hefty sigh that had a faint growl to its tone.

Sara sat up in bed, watching Michael. She had been listening to this particular dream for about ten minutes. Sighing, she leaned over him, placing a hand on his chest. "Michael?" He didn't respond and she shook him lightly. "Michael!"

In Michael's dream, Sara placed her hand to his chest and cooed his name seductively. Her eyes fluttered half closed and she licked her lips coyly, gently biting down on the smooth, kissable skin with a smirk. "Sara..." he whimpered in his deep state of sleep, his own excited smirk playing across his lips as dream Sara pushed him down onto their couch and crawled over his waist.

Sara rolled her eyes and sat back up, crossing her arms. Clearing her throat she tried again. "Michael Scofield." Nothing. Letting out an aggravated grunt she shook him harder. "We have an emergency!"

Michael jolted awake, his dream fading from his suddenly. He sat up with a gasp, searching the dark room for any sign of danger. He turned to Sara quickly and threw his hands over his semi hard erection under the dark blue sheets. Michael cleared his throat and frowned. "What? What's the matter?" He shuffled closer to her and reached out for her stomach. "Is it the baby?" he asked panicked.

Sara smiled widely, glad she had finally managed to wake him. The clock blared 3:27. He had gotten enough sleep for one night. Grinning, she placed her hand over his on her stomach. "Yes, it's the baby." She paused. "We're hungry."

"Hungry?" Michael asked amazed, his voice low and whisper. "Sara, it's 3:30 AM," he breathed, shooting a glance to their bedroom door, listening out for Roman stirring in the other room.

Sara followed his gaze then looked back to him rolling her eyes slightly. "Michael. She can't tell time."

Michael shifted his position again and pressing his palms to his eyes, rubbing them furiously. He let out a grunt on a sigh again and yawned, falling back against the pillows when he relaxed a bit from knowing it wasn't anything major wrong with the baby. "Roman never ate at 3 AM," he pointed out softly, his arm thrown over his eyes to shield out the soft glow of the digital alarm clock.

Sara wrinkled her nose and leaned over Michael. "Why are you still in bed? I told you we were hungry." She rubbed a slow circle on her stomach, giving him a playful glare. "Do you want to make us angry?"

A slow laugh escaped Michael's closed mouth and he rolled his head sideways to look at her. "Of course not," he smiled, smoothing his hand down the side of her body and around the front to her slightly raised bump. "What do my girls want to eat?" he asked softly, his voice raspy from sleep.

Sara smirked and tilted her head, pretending to think about it for a moment. "Hmm. . ." She smiled down at him. "We want pancakes."

Michael smiled back at her and lifted his head to rest in on his hand, his elbow pressing into his pillow. "I can make pancakes," he whispered triumphantly.

"Well good. . ." Sara murmured. She leaned over him, brushing her lips across his neck until they found his ear. "Blueberry pancakes?"

Michael's eyes fell closed and he gulped, shifting his legs awkwardly when his stomach began to tingle. "I can make blueberry pancakes," he said softly with a smile.

"Blueberry pancakes would make me very happy," Sara whispered. She ran her hand across his torso. "And once I'm very happy maybe I can make you very happy?"

Michael pulled back and looked at her with a narrowed gaze. "Something tells me there is more to you just wanting blueberry pancakes..." he smirked. "...What's the catch?"

"There's no catch." Sara shook her head slowly, moving to get out of bed. She grabbed her robe, wrapping it around her body and shrugged. "I just want my loving, loving husband to do something for me. Is that too much to ask?"

"And all I have to do is make you blueberry pancakes, and you'll..." Michael was cut off as he stepped out of bed in just his boxers and a dark grey t-shirt by Sara smiling at him from the doorway.

"Michael!" Sara rubbed a hand across her stomach. "You're just offering to make us a snack because you want sex? Shouldn't you do it because your wife and your baby girl are practically starving? We barely had anything for dinner."

Michael held up his hands in defense before closing the gap between them. "I'm kidding," he smirked, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to him. "I'd make you anything, at any time of the day. That's how much I love you and our little baby girl," he cooed, looking down between them at Sara's minute bump. He frowned a little. "Are you sure you're four months pregnant? I remember you being bigger with Roman."

"You're saying I was fat with him?" Sara arched an eyebrow and pulled away shaking her head. "Excuse me. You told me I was beautiful when I was pregnant." She smiled softly. "Plus, if you remember I got a lot of midnight snacks with Rome. This little girl hasn't been as hungry as your boy."

"You're not fat," Michael sighed. Sara had obviously been awake long before he had and she had the brain power to outsmart him. Or twist his words. "I didn't mean it like that," he said before breaking into a boyish grin. "I love you," he cooed, dipping his head to kiss her neck.

"Yeah, yeah yeah. You love sex." Sara wiggled out of his grasp and pointed towards the stairs. "You know what I love? Pancakes!"

Michael chuckled and silently padded towards the stairs. He managed to find every creaky step on the way down but paused at the bottom, straining his ears to listen for Roman. There was no stirring from the boy, so he made his way to the kitchen, his slightly sweaty bare feet sticking to the linoleum floor with every step. He silently proceeded to make the pancakes, frying them until they were just golden brown on either side and then stacking them on the plate he had prepared. Michael pulled open the drawer under the sink and pulled out a fork, resting it to the side of the pancakes and heading back upstairs. He pushed open their bedroom door quietly and skipped to the bed quickly. "Here you go, blueberry pancakes," he announced softly.

"Thanks!" Sara pulled the plate to her and took a slow bite. After a moment, she paused, wrinkling her nose. "No. This is wrong."

"Wrong?" Michael squeaked. "What do you mean, wrong?" he objected, losing his smile.

"It tastes. . ." Sara paused, looking for the right words. "Wrong!" She thrust the plate back at him. "She doesn't like them."

"She doesn't like them...?" Michael stammered. "And what would she like?" he asked, suddenly feeling very tired. He stuck his fork into one of the pancakes and stuffed it into his mouth. It tasted fine to him.

"I think. . ." Sara paused and smiled shyly at him. "I think she would probably really like it . . . if her uncle made her some?"

"Lincoln?!" Michael said, wide eyed and shocked, almost spitting out his mouthful of pancake. He swallowed it painfully and let out a cough. "You want...Lincoln's pancakes?"

"Yes!" Sara cried out. "Well, no." She placed a protective hand over her stomach. "I don't want Lincoln's pancakes. Your daughter wants Linc's pancakes." She stuck out her bottom lip. "Are you going to tell your baby no?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "Sara, you are aware it is 4 AM?" he coughed out a laugh. "Lincoln would...well, not appreciate me waking him up for pancakes," he smiled, shaking his head.

"Time does not matter!" Sara sat forward in bed, smacking her hand down on the sheets. "Linc loves us. And he should love this baby too. We all know it could be his. He should be happy to make her some pancakes."

Michael pushed himself off the bed and stepped from it to retrieve his pants from the back of the chair next to their wardrobe. "I don't remember you being like this with Roman," he mumbled, pulling his belt tight and fastening it. He grabbed an old marl grey sweater with his college name rubbing thin on the front and pulled it over his head. "You don't even care Linc is going to kick my ass, do you?" he grinned, moving back over to the side of the bed to lean in for a kiss.

Sara cupped his face in his hands and pulled him to her. She kissed him long and slow and deep, lingering on his bottom lip. "Just think. You come home with pancakes and I will give you whatever you want."

"Hmm..." Michael frowned and looked to the ceiling. "...Yeah," he nodded with a smirk. "I could live without sex," he grinned, pressing his lips to hers again.

"You could not!" Sara wiggled in bed. She started to say something else when a wail of a mumbled "Mommy! Daaaaaaaddy!" resounded down the hallway. She stood up, kicking the covers off. "I'll get our little man."

Michael slumped against the bed and sighed again. "I'll get the pancakes," he said defeated. Almost fifteen minutes later, he hopped from his truck and bounded up to Lincoln's front door. He knocked on the door loudly and then waited for a few minutes before banging again, twice as hard.

Lincoln stumbled out of bed, moving to the door, half-alarmed. His fear grew when he saw Michael standing there. "Mike!" He glanced back to the car. "Is it Sara? The baby? Is it Roman?" He continued on. "Did you fuck up again? You're not sleeping here. Go to your wife."

"No, I can't," Michael said slowly. "It's the baby," Michael said, stepping a foot into Lincoln's doorway so he couldn't slam the door in his face. "She wanted pancakes, so I made them, and Sara said they tasted wrong," he blushed a little before his next words. "Sara wants you to make her blueberry pancakes," he sighed, his shoulders slumping.

Lincoln leaned against the wall, studying Michael closely. "What the fu. . ." He trailed off. "I don't even know if I have shit to make pancakes. You realize it's not even five am right?"

Michael pulled his sleeve up and looked at his watch. Daylight had begun to illuminate the sky but it was still dark. "I know," he said aggravated. "But Sara wants them, so are you gonna call her and say no?"

Lincoln snorted and moved to the kitchen. "Even your baby likes me more than you."

Michael pushed past him into his the house and sighed. "You're an ass, Linc."

"Hey, I'm an ass?" Lincoln arched an eyebrow as he sat the ingredients out on the kitchen counter. "I am an ass? The man who is making your wife and your daughter pancakes at this ungodly hour of the morning. I don't think so, buddy."

"I love Sara, and my kids," Michael said, taking a seat at Lincoln's kitchen table. "But you know when I feel most unloved? When they all need you more," he broke into a small laugh, balling his fists on the pine table and sighing. "Maybe you should move in with us," he joked lightly.

"They don't need me more," Lincoln gave him a look. "It's not my fault I'm a better cook than you. And you know what, Mike? It's nice to have someone who needs me, okay?" He poured the pancake batter into the skillet. "Plus, we all know they're mine."

"You know, what?" Michael said little agitated at the early morning escapade to another man's house for his wife. "That joke is not helping right now."

Lincoln flipped the pancake over and rolled his eyes at his younger brother. "Is that cause it isn't a joke? I mean, I knew they said redheads were feisty. But Sara, wow. . ." He turned to Michael. "That thing where she holds onto to the headboard and does that thing with her hips. . ."

Michael clenched his jaw together and looked from his brother. "Linc...just cook the damn pancakes," he said angrily. "I'm not in the mood for games."

Lincoln smirked and poured another pancake into the skillet. "Really? Maybe that's why Sara likes me more. I'm always up for a game. . ."

"Okay, enough!" Michael roared, slamming his fist into the table with a loud thud. He buried his face in his hands and sighed against his palms, dragging his hand back down his face and pushing himself to his feet. He walked to Lincoln and watched him put another pancake on the pile. "I need sleep, Sara needs these pancakes and you need to shut up," he said sarcastically.

Lincoln nodded slowly and handed the plate over to Michael, with saran wrap secured tightly around. "Get some sleep, dude. Tell Sara and mini-Sara I love them. Give Ro a kiss for me, okay?"

Michael slapped his brother on the back of the shoulder and smiled softly. "Thanks, Linc," he said, taking the plate and heading for the door. "I'll see you soon. Still coming to dinner tomorrow night?" he smirked as he pulled the door open. "I promise, I'm not cooking."

"Yeah, I'll be there," Lincoln nodded. "And I'll bring Sara a whole batch of pancakes you can freeze so she can have them whenever she gets a little craving." He tilted his head and nodded. "Be good to her, Mike. She's got your kid in her."

"Again," he smiled proudly and pulled the door closed behind him. He jumped into his truck and put the pancakes on the passenger seat, ready for the journey home. He took the quickest route and parked the truck on the driveway, bounding up the steps to the front door. He could here Roman chatting away to Sara as he entered and he grinned to himself. "Daddy's home!" he announced and heard the tiny patter of bare feet thundering through the house towards him as he took his jacket off, hung it on a coat hook in their hall and Roman slammed his body into Michael's legs.

"Daddy!" Roman threw his arms around Michael's legs. He clung to him, letting out a chipper slew of conversation. He pointed towards the plate in Michael's hand and let out an excited squeal. "Mine?"

Sara hurried down the hallway after Roman. He was wide awake and she figured she wasn't going to get any more sleep that morning, so she had gone ahead and gotten dressed. Taking in Michael's tired expression, she felt a little bad. "That was quick."

Michael held out the plate for her to take and ruffled his fingers through Roman's dark hair. "Linc said he'd make you some anytime you want. In fact, he is going to make you a supply to freeze," he said on a yawn.

Sara took the plate from him and brushed a quick kiss over Michael's cheek. "Thank you so much, I knew there was a reason I was sleeping with you." She smiled down at the plate. "And a reason I'm sleeping with Linc too."

Roman tugged on Michael's jeans, he waved his arms in the air. "Daddy! Hold you!"

Michael sighed at Sara, thoroughly irritated with the joke now that he was tired as hell. He bent down and lifted Roman into his arms with an exaggerated grunt, letting the boy bounce in his arms before he stopped and looked at him. "You're not tired?" he asked childishly. "No more sleepies?"

Roman wrapped his arms tightly around Michael's neck, shaking his head fiercely. He kissed his Daddy on the cheek and grinned. "Play ball?"

Michael shook his head quickly and yawned again. "It's too early buddy," he groaned, placing the boy back on the floor who promptly ran off to get his bright yellow ball. "Daddy said no," he called after the boy as he disappeared into the front room to his toy box. "Is daddy invisible?" he asked Sara as he walked into the kitchen and fell into the padded seat of the dining chairs and let his forehead fall against the wooden surface.

Sara swallowed a bite of pancake and stood, making her way around the table. "You're not invisible, he just likes to play with you." She placed a quick kiss to the back of his head. "Go back to bed for awhile, baby. I'll play with him. I'm sorry I made you go out."

"Yeah, I think I will," Michael mumbled against the wood. He lifted his head when the slapping of feet returned and Roman ran into the kitchen with the cordless phone in his hand.

"I thought you were going to get your ball! Where's your ball?" Sara smiled at Michael then pulled Roman up into her lap. She kissed his head as he put the phone in her hands.

"Linc!" He giggled and took the phone back from Sara, holding it up to her face. "Linc play ball."

"No!" Michael bellowed and snatched the phone from his startled son. "No Linc! No ball! No play!" he yelled, sliding off his chair and storming away from the kitchen as Roman began to whine. The boy gripped at his mother's clothes and buried his face in her chest, his breath catching in his throat as he sobbed. Michael slammed the phone back down on the charging unit and sighed, closing his eyes and balling his fists as his son wailed in the next room.

Sara smoothed her hand up and down Roman's back as he wailed against her. "Shhh, baby. It's okay. We can call Uncle Linc and play ball." She stood up, pressing her lips against his head that was buried in her shoulder. After a little maneuvering, she got him positioned to the side of her still small bump so she could carry him into the living room. "Daddy's just sleepy and cranky."

She turned to look at Michael, keeping her voice low and soothing for Roman. "Was that necessary?"

Michael ignored her and flashed a glance at his son. His face was pressed to Sara's shoulder but his eyes were trained firmly on his father, scared and watery. Michael had never been angry around Roman before, and he didn't know why he was now, all of a sudden. It felt like before. It felt like when he had his nightmares but he couldn't work out the trigger. "Just leave me alone," Michael growled at both of them, moving to the lounge and collapsing down onto the couch.

Roman clutched harder at Sara and sniffled a silent sob racking his body. Sara kissed him again and walked slowly to the lounge. "Michael, you need to--"

Her voice was interrupted by a whisper from Roman. "Sorry. . ." He let out a soft sniffle. "Daddy. . ."

At the sound of Roman's words, Michael looked over at him from the couch. "Aww, buddy," Michael sighed with a small, forced smile. He held out an arm to Roman, and when Sara put him to the ground, he tread gently over to his father fretfully. "You don't have to be sorry," Michael said to him softly, taking his hand and pulling him up onto the couch beside him. "Daddy is just...tired," Michael finished, running his hand over Roman's head and looking at Sara as he spoke. "Daddy thinks he has let things build up like before," he said quietly, not averting his gaze and keeping his words soothing, even if he was directing Sara.

Sara watched Michael closely, nodding slowly. She glanced to Roman who was staring at Michael like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to touch him or not. "Daddy's sorry, baby. He didn't mean to yell." She turned her gaze to Michael again. She knew what he was saying, and she wasn't sure what she could do to prevent an episode if one was building. She knew she didn't want Roman to witness it if it did happen.

"Come on, baby. Let's let Daddy sleep. We'll find someone to play ball with you, okay? Maybe you and Mommy will take a walk to the park."

"Park! Park!" Roman chanted, sliding off the couch and jumping up and down at Sara's feet.

"Thank you," Michael smiled at her, lifting his legs onto the couch cushions and resting his head on the pillow. Sara said something to Michael but her words were only a dull mumble in his mind as he fell to sleep instantly.


	54. Chapter 54

"Damn it!" Michael growled to himself, slamming his fist down onto his desk and leaning over the blueprints with a tensed jaw. He looked over the work again. It was wrong, all wrong. Michael let our a roar as he ripped the blueprint from his desk and threw it across the room, sinking into his chair, tearing his glasses from his face and throwing them onto his desk roughly.

Sara looked up from the book she was reading when Roman slapped her on the knee. He smiled sweetly and held out his cup. "More?"

Sara smiled and took the cup. "More. . .?" Roman giggled and nodded, "More please!"

"There we go!" Sara laughed, standing up and moving to the kitchen to refill Roman's cup. She reached for the box of Cheerios, pouring a handful into a bowl for a treat for him. Unbeknownst to her, Roman had vacated his play area in the lounge and padded softly into Michael's office.

"Daddy! Play?"

"No, Ro," Michael growled. "I'm busy. Go ask your mother," he said gruffly, not looking around at his son.

Roman stood in the middle of Michael's office and looking around, his fist to his mouth and a furrowed brow. Finally, he spied some rolled up documents in the bottom draw of Michael's desk and headed straight for them confidently. He reaching in and took one out, falling to sit on his bottom while he tore into the cylindrical object. Alerted to the sound of ripping, Michael looked around quickly and jumped from his chair.

"Roman! No!" Michael yelled, pulling the blueprint from the baby's hand. He held it up and noticed a corner was missing. "God dammit, Roman!" Michael shouted at the boy. "Look what you did!" He roared, the boy flinching and beginning to wail on the floor. Michael let out a frustrated sigh and threw the blueprints to his desk. "You ruined them! Get out!" he shouted again, pointing to the door. Roman just sat and a high pitched scream sounded through the house as he cried, real tears falling from his eyes and staining his face. "I said get out!"

Hearing Roman's wail, Sara hurried from the kitchen to Michael's office. She walked into the room just in time to hear Michael yell at Roman's wailing figure to get out. She dropped the juice bottle and the bowl to Michael's desk, leaning over to snatch her son off the ground. She glared at Michael, not even bothering to censor herself. "What the fuck do you think you're doing!"

She cradled Roman against her, pressing kisses to the top of his head. "It's okay, baby. Mommy's got you. Shhh." She continued to kiss him, bouncing gently, but nothing calmed his sobs.

"Don't fuck me, Sara!" Michael yelled back at her. He stopped his angry words and noticed the juice all over his blueprints. "My god, am I the only person in this house that can keep shit tidy!" he growled, his voice bellowing over the cries of Roman. "Now I have to do it all again!"

Sara clutched Roman to her chest, wrapping her arm around his head and trying to protect his ears from Michael's harsh words. She pressed a kiss to Roman's head and shook her head at Michael. "Stop it."

"No, Sara, you stop it! Stop mothering the boy and punish him for being bad for once!" Michael shouted at her, pointing to Roman accusingly. "How am I supposed to work now?" he said angrily, picking up his soggy blueprints and slapping them back into the spilled juice. "I have to redo the blueprints and..." he bit his tongue. "Fucking bastard!" Michael growled and Roman's face reddened with more screams.

"Mom mom mom mom..." he sobbed, eyeing Michael nervously and flinching in Sara's arms when his father raised his voice.

Sara pressed her hand to the back of Roman's head, pulling his head into her shoulder where he wouldn't have to look at Michael. She tried to keep her anger in check, not wanting to upset her son further. It was hard when he was wailing and clinging to her because he was scared to death of his father. "Would you listen to yourself?" Sara's tone was soft but her voice was seething. "They're stupid plans, Michael. They can be re-done. Would you listen to how you're talking to your son?" She rubbed her fingers through Roman's thick black hair, but his sobs wouldn't slow.

"The stupid plans put food on the table. The stupid plans give Roman everything he wants. The stupid plans..." he roared, his voice growing louder with every sentence. "The stupid fucking plans!" He grabbed a few rolled up blueprints and threw them across the room. Roman's muffled screams still echoed in Michael's ears and he threw his hands over the side of his head and shook his head. "I have to go. I have to get out," Michael mumbled to himself, storming past Sara and out of the room.

She had hoped on everything that it would never come to this. Michael had done so well, Michael had done so well for so long. She had known it wouldn't be long that this was right around the corner. But she had hoped it would be her who had triggered it, not their little boy. She followed Michael as quickly as she could, the wailing boy in her arms and her protruding stomach preventing her from running. "Don't you dare, Michael. Don't you dare walk out on us. On him." Roman shuddered in her arms, choking on a sob and she brought her hand up, rubbing a slow circle on his back.

Something inside of her finally broke, and tears welled in her eyes. "How could you. . . Michael, he's a baby." Biting her lip, she shook her head, carrying Roman slowly upstairs.

Michael froze, his hand on the front door handle, holding it tightly in his hand so his knuckles were white. He gritted his teeth as she spoke, and something inside his chest cracked and tore apart when she began to cry. He pulled the door open and stared out into the early morning, the daylight already breaking and people leaving their houses for work. He took a deep breath and slammed the door shut, turning to follow her upstairs. "Sara..." he called softly, bounding up two steps at a time.

Sara sat in the rocking chair in Roman's room, gently rocking him. His head was still buried in her chest and she pressed soft kisses to his hair, humming quietly to him. His sobbing had worn him out, and as his cries had dwindled he began to fall asleep. Clutching onto Sara's shirt, Roman's eyes fluttered close. Every few moments his body would shudder with a sleepy sob. "I've got you. . ." Sara whispered against his head. "Mommy's right here. She's got you, baby. It's all okay."

"Sara..." Michael whispered, skidding to a stop at the doorway. She didn't look up and he didn't enter the room. "Sara, I am so sorry," Michael said with a quivering voice. "I'm so, so sorry."

When he heard Michael's voice Roman flinched in his half-asleep state and Sara's eyes welled with tears again. She pulled him tighter to her and kept her gaze to her sleeping boy's body. "He's falling asleep." Roman hiccuped loudly and pulled on Sara's shirt, mumbling something in baby talk. "You scared him."

"I didn't mean to," Michael said softly, his face scared of how his son was reacting to him. "Sara, you have to believe I didn't want to. It was like..." Michael looked down at his hand, closing them tightly with frustration. "...It's like I can't stop," he said on a hitched breath. He looked up to her and heaved a sob. "Sara, I don't want to be like I was. I don't want to be like this."

Roman mumbled again in his sleep as Michael spoke. He let out another quiet sob and mumbled, "Daddy, no." Sara felt bad for Michael, and she knew how he got when he was in the middle of an episode. She had always been able to shake off how he treated her. But she couldn't stand how he had talked to her baby. She kissed Roman, "Mommy's got you."

Taking a deep breath, she glanced up at Michael. "I don't think you should be in here right now. I'll be downstairs when I get him to sleep, okay?"

Michael's heart broke at his son's rejection and he just nodded and left, not wanting to speak and upset the boy further. He turned and left, gulping down a nervous lump in his throat as he crept downstairs. Heading to the lounge he sat on the couch and let his head fall into the cushions with a sigh. "What have I done," he breathed to himself, resting his hands on his face.

Sara finally got Roman to sleep, and he stopped shuddering in her arms. After several moments of just holding his still figure, she hoisted him up, carrying him over to his new bed and laying him down on it. She grabbed a blanket from the end and covered him, kissing his head and telling him how much she loved him before slowly leaving the room.

Downstairs she found Michael in the lounge. He looked more than upset. Clearing her throat, she perched on the edge of the couch and smoothed a hand over her stomach.

Michael felt the couch dip where Sara sat on it but he did not look at her. He kept his hand in his face and just fought back a sob. "Sara, I..."

Sara glanced down at her hands, trying to come up with something to say. She shook her head. "Michael, the things you said in front of him. The things you said to him. . ."

"I know," Michael said hurriedly and looked over at her with watery eyes. "And I am so, so sorry," he begged for forgiveness with a wavering voice. "I hate myself," he muttered, wiping his eyes and wishing he had a brain that ran at a normal processing speed. With everything going on in his head right now, Michael had reached his breaking point and his lack of control had manifested itself in an LLI outburst. Unfortunately for Roman, he had just been unfortunate enough to trigger his father.

"No, you don't. You don't hate yourself," Sara turned towards him and shook her head. "I don't hate you. Roman doesn't hate you." She reached out for him and wiped a stray tear off of his face.

Michael leaned into her touch, collapsing on the couch and falling sideways so his head rested on her lap. "He does, he won't even look at me. He won't let me touch him, Sara. He's scared of me and it's all my fault," he sulked with a quivering lip. "I don't even know what has happened to me."

Sara leaned over, pressing a kiss to Michael's head. "Michael, he'll be okay. He was just scared. He'll get over it. You can talk to him when he wakes up and it'll all be okay. You're his Daddy, Michael. He loves you." She kissed him again, running her fingers through his hair. "You're his Daddy."

"Will you?" Michael asked softly, gripping her knee and staring straight ahead at his reflection in their coffee table. "Will you get over it? Sara, I called our son..." he closed his eyes, loathing the word that resonated in his mind.

"Michael. . ." Sara paused and leaned back into the couch, closing her eyes. "Michael. He's a baby. He just wanted to see you, to play with you. He doesn't understand why I'm around all the time, but you have to leave and shut yourself up in that room. You can't --" She pressed her hand to her forehead, not sure how to deal with the entire thing. "God, Michael. He worships you."

"You didn't answer my question," he mumbled.

"Yes, Michael." Sara murmured, her eyes still closed. "You know I'll get over it. I always do. I'll be fine as long as he's okay. But you can't -- you can't do this to him."

"I didn't mean to. It just...came out. Like I couldn't stop myself," he whimpered. "It's like I am watching myself say these things Sara, but I have no way of stopping it from happening," he admitted sadly. "I try to stop, I really do."

Sara continued running her fingers through Michael's hair. She felt the tears well in her eyes again and she motioned for him to sit up. Blinking rapidly, she shrugged and glanced over at him. "Then what are we going to do? This can't happen again." She cleared her throat and spoke, her voice more firm. Her son's best interest was what was most important. "I am not letting you do this to him again."

Michael smiled weakly. "And I know you won't," he sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I'll go. I'll go and stay with Linc or something and sort myself out. Sara, I don't want to hurt Ro. Or you," he eyes flashed downwards and he restrained himself from reaching out and caressing Sara's bump. "Or our baby girl."

"Michael!" Sara felt a panic rise within her and she leaned forward. "You can't leave. You can't just leave me. You can't leave him." She shook her head. "What would I tell him? How would I explain that Daddy isn't here when he wakes up? Or that Daddy's not here to give him a bath, or a plane ride to bed like he does every night?" She motioned to her stomach. "I'm pregnant, Michael. Pretty soon I won't be able to pick Roman up. I can't do this alone." The panic rose higher and a tear slid down her cheek.

Sara's panic shocked Michael and he blinked a few times to compose himself. "Hey, hey..." Michael soothed, pulling Sara's into his embrace. "...I won't leave," he said, kissing the top of her head softly. "I'll never leave," he breathed. "I promise."

"We can go back to therapy," Sara whispered, burying her face into his shirt. "We can go back. We can do whatever you want, okay? Whatever you need. But you can't . . . leave us."

"Okay, okay, I won't," Michael soothed, rubbing his hand down her back. "I think therapy will help, but I know how you hate someone else prying into our life," he chuckled lightly, giving a weak smile. "Either way, I won't leave," he whispered against her hair. "We need a word. A word I can say when I feel...when I know an LLI episode will happen, and we can resolve the situation so no one gets hurt. Sara," he said, pulling her back to look at him, rubbing her shoulders. "I never want to see Roman cry like that again."

"We can go to therapy," Sara murmured, wiping her eyes. "I'll go with you. Whatever you need." She was slowly calming down and she took a quick breath. "You're right. A word. And when you feel stuff building up, you just need to tell me, Michael. If you need time to yourself, we can go find something to do for the day. But I can not see that look on Roman's face again. I can't see him be scared of you."

"Okay," Michael nodded. "I don't want him to be scared of me. That's the last thing I want."

Sara nodded slowly and started to respond when she felt the little feeling she had been expecting for days in the corner of her stomach. She had been feeling little flutterings for awhile, but not a full fledged kick or punch yet. She pressed her fingers to her stomach and grinned. "Well, it's about time you said hello."

Michael face lit up but he pulled his hands from Sara's and gulped nervously. "She's kicking?" Michael breathed excitedly. "Can I feel?" he asked sheepishly.

"Of course you can feel. . ." Sara murmured. She felt the kick again and took his hand, placing it on the lower part of her round abdomen. She placed her other hand on the top of her stomach and whispered. "Go on. Say hi to your daddy." After a few moments, another tiny kick pattered inside her stomach.

Michael's breath caught in his throat and he felt his eyes begin to burn with tears. His smile broadened and he felt a bigger pride take over his previous anger. "That's my girl," he grinned, looking up to Sara proudly. "That's her," he smiled.

"That's her," Sara confirmed with a smile. She pressed her hand over Michael's and gave him a sweet smile. "See. She already loves you very much."

"She hasn't met me yet," he said solemnly. "She'll probably like Uncle Linc better," he bit out the words, gritting his teeth with a distaste for his brother.

"Hey. . ." Sara said softly, moving her hand up to Michael's face and stroking his cheek. "Nobody likes Lincoln better than you, Michael. Not me, not Roman. And certainly not this little girl. Who's the one who rubs my belly, and goes out to get her pancakes at four am? And who sings to her every night?"

Michael smiled shyly. "I told you...I don't sing," he smirked, smoothing his hands over he belly. The tiniest bump tapped his palm and he looked to his hand with a grin. He shuffled backwards on the couch and rested forward on his elbows to talk to Sara's bump. "Hello baby," he cooed, lifting the edge of Sara's shirt and kissing the smooth, stretched skin lovingly.

"I've been thinking about names," Sara said softly, relaxing back onto the couch as Michael talked softly to their daughter. "I mean, we had Roman's name picked out since the second we found out he was a boy. This one deserves something more than Baby Girl."

"When it's cold outside...I've got the month of May...Okay, let's hear it," Michael whispered, looking up at her before he continued his serenade. "I guess, you'd say...what can make me feel this way...my girl," he sang with a smile, his voice velvety and luxuriously smooth as it left his mouth and his breath heated Sara's belly.

Sara smiled at him lovingly, running a hand over his head as he sang to their baby girl. "I love you, Michael. Do you know how much I love you?" She paused. "What about Sophia? I think it goes well with Roman. And uh. . ." She hesitated. "Linc told me it's your mom's middle name. So. . ."

Michael looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. "Linc told you that?" he said surprised. "Linc spoke about our mom?" he asked, even more surprised. Lincoln was even more elusive about his mother than Michael was. "I think it's beautiful," he smiled. "What do you think, Sophia?" he cooed at Sara's belly, his words immediately followed by a strong kick to his palm again.

"Ooh!" Sara smirked, laughing quietly when the baby kicked Michael. "I think she likes it!" She started to say something else when a loud wail resounded from upstairs. She shifted, moving to stand up. "I didn't think he'd be down long. Do you want to come upstairs and get him with me?"

"I do, but should I?" Michael hesitated, sitting back up on the couch and looking worried.

"Yes, you should," Sara told him firmly. She walked towards the stairs and motioned for Michael to follow her. Walking into Roman's room, she sat down on his bed next to him. He was sniffling and rubbing his sleepy eyes. "Hey, baby. Do you feel a little better after some sleepies?"

Roman sniffled and shook his head, crawling into Sara's lap.

Michael walked over to the edge of Roman's bed and knelt down on the floor, making himself lower and less intimidating to the boy. He reached out and smoothed his hand down Roman's arm, smiling gently when he felt him grip at his hand. "Roman?" he said softly. "Ro?" he repeated the boy's name until he turned his sleepy head to look at his father. "Can daddy have a hug?" he said with a soft smile, opening his arms to the toddler.

Roman relinquished his grip on Sara and moved towards Michael, wrapping his tiny arms around his Daddy's neck. "I sorry. . ." Roman let out a quiet baby sigh and pressed his face to Michael's neck, leaning all his weight on him. "I bad."

"Noooooo," Michael breathed, relieved when Roman hugged him. He laughed at the boy's words, flashed a smile to Sara. "Daddy was bad, not Roman," he said, kissing his son on the head. "You don't have to be sorry," he shook his head and pulled the boy into his arms and standing before sitting next to Sara on the bed. "Hey, you know what?" Michael added with a jolly air to his voice.

"What?" Roman smiled excitedly, bouncing in his dad's arms.

"You have a sister," Michael said with a smile, pointing to Sara's belly. They hadn't told Roman what the baby was yet. They agreed to pick a name first so he could get used to saying it. Michael shifted Roman so he was sitting between them on the bed and he moved the toddler's chubby fingers to rest on Sara's belly. "This is Sophia," Michael told him sweetly, watching the boy begin to giggle when he felt the baby move.

Roman patted his mommy's belly gently. "Soooopheeeee." He tried her name then giggled again when his little sister kicked his hand.

Sara ran her hair through Roman's hair and smiled sweetly at him. "See? She loves her big brother very much."

"What's big brother?" Roman looked at his mother puzzled.

"You're the big brother!" Sara laughed softly. "And she's your baby sister." She smiled up at Michael and continued to play with Roman's hair. "Mommy and Daddy love you."

"Yes, we love you very much," Michael said, pulling the boy onto his lap with a giggle. He ruffled Roman's hair and the boy threw his head back with a laugh.

"Daddy tickles!" Roman screeched, his body tensing with his laughter.

"And Daddy loves Mommy," Michael smirked, looking up to Sara with a soft smile. He was lost in her eyes that had never shown him anything but love.

"Kiss Mommy," Roman announced, shaking Michael from his daydream. "Daddy kiss Mommy!"

Sara smirked and leaned towards Michael. "Mommy loves Daddy." She met his lips in a slow kiss as Roman erupted into another fit of giggles between them.

Michael hummed contently against Sara's lips and Roman clapped as he giggled. "I love you," Michael breathed against her face, cupping her face in his hand and smoothing his thumb over her cheek. "I love you so much."

"I love you, Michael. So much you'll never even know. . ." She pulled away from him slowly and leaned in, pulling Roman to her and pressing her lips to his cheek. "And I love my baby boy!"

Michael pressed his lips to the other rosy cherub-like cheek of their son and the boy shrugged his shoulders shyly. "And daddy loves him too!"


	55. Chapter 55

“What? No!” Michael yelled into the phone. “It was nothing. When are you going to understand that!” Michael roared, waving his arms towards the traffic in front of him as he talked on his hand free ear piece. Today was fine. Fine being mediocre and already tainted by the fact he had to go into the office and be away from Sara who was having more than a hard time with her pregnancy. Now, on top of everything, Nika had somehow procured his cell phone number from someone at work, pretending to be his wife no less, and was pestering him. “Nika, listen,” he growled. “I am married. Happily. You were nothing. You never were and you never will be, so leave me alone. Or I’ll call the cops,” Michael snapped, ending the call just as he drove into his drive way.

Sara sat on the couch, trying to rest. She pressed her hand to her stomach, rubbing slow circles over it. This pregnancy had been extra rough on her; she was tired and sick all the time. She'd had to call Linc earlier that morning and ask him to take Roman for the day. Sighing, she glanced into the front yard and a smile came across her lips when she saw Michael hurrying up the front walk.

Michael opened the door slowly and quietly in case Sara was sleeping and he held his keys in his hand to stop them jingling. He closed the door behind him and looked into the kitchen quickly before he made his way into the lounge to see Sara sitting on the couch. He smiled and shucked off his jacket, resting over the back of the chair and collapsing beside her on the couch. He threw his keys and cell phone down on the table and kicked off his shoes, sighing when he fell back into the cushions. “Honey, I’m home,” he droned, leaning over and kissing her softly whilst his hands rubbed across her distended abdomen gently.

"Good," Sara murmured, leaning in for another kiss. She cupped his face with one hand and placed her other over his hand that was top of her belly. "Bad day? We missed you, baby."

“Bad is an understatement,” Michael sighed. “But it’s better now,” he breathed, kissing her again and quickly noticing the kick to his palm. He pulled back quickly and smile, shuffling backwards on the couch and leaning forward to kissing Sara’s belly. “Oh, how could I forget my girl?” Michael cooed, talking against the fabric of Sara’s shirt.

Sara smiled and leaned her head against the back of the couch, smoothing her hand over his closely-shaved head. "Roman's with Uncle Linc today; I wasn't feeling well this morning."

“Aww, baby,” Michael pouted sorrowfully, pushing himself into a sit and rubbing his hand over Sara’s thigh. “How do you feel now? Can I get you anything?” He asked her gently with a smile, looping his fingers in hers.

"I'm okay now. . ." Sara shrugged. "Just really, really tired." She laid her head on his shoulder and squeezed his hand. "I'm good now that you're home."

Michael smiled and turned his head to plant a soft, moist kiss to Sara’s forehead and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. “I’m sorry I had to leave you today…” he began but his words were cut off by the vibration of his cell phone on the tabletop. Michael groaned and reluctantly pulled himself from Sara’s grasp, reaching for the phone and sending it to voice mail with a frustrated growl when he saw the number. “That can wait,” he said simply, throwing it back onto the table.

Sara closed her eyes and let out a tiny noise. She rubbed her belly and glanced over at him. "Work?"

“It can wait,” he smiled at her sweetly, relaxing back into the cushions next to her. “How about, I go get changed and then I cook you something to eat?” he offered, shuffling his head across the cushions closer to hers. “Would you like that?” he whispered, letting his eyes roam her face.

"I would love for you to make something to eat," Sara smirked, pressing her hand to her stomach. "Are you hungry, baby girl?" She smiled up at Michael. "She says yes."

Michael smiled back at her. “Well okay then,” he whispered against her face, finally closing the gap for a slow kiss. “I’ll just go get changed.” Michael pushed himself off the couch and almost ran upstairs, tearing his tie from his neck and tossing it into his closet as he went to work on his shirt buttons.

Sara sighed and closed her eyes, waiting for Michael to return. After a few moments, his cell phone began to ring. Pushing herself up, she grabbed the cell phone and stared at the foreign number. "Hello?"

Not even registering the voice on the other end of the call, Nika begged into her handset. “Please don’t hang up on my Michael. We have to talk. You know I am right. What we have…you and I…we can’t ignore it any longer.”

Sara took a deep breath and placed her hand on the table, steadying herself. "Nika?"

Nika stared at the phone in shock for a second before returning it to her ear. “Well Sara, now you know,” she spat, snapping it shut afterwards.

Sara pressed her hand to her stomach, glancing up the top of the stairs. "Mi. . . Michael?"

Michael pulled his shirt on over his head and hurried out of the bedroom and began walking back down the stairs when he paused half way after looking up to see Sara’s pale complexion at the base of the thirteen step mountain. “Sara?” he frowned, slowing his descent. “Are you okay? You look pale?”

Sara sat Michael's phone down on the table and stared over at Michael. "You. . . uh. . . you and Nika?"

“What?” Michael half laughed, half asked her shocked. “No…” he shook his head and stepped off the last step and walked towards her. “…Sara…” he caught her attention and tried to catch her gaze. “No.”

"She just. . ." Sara motioned to the phone and took a step away from him. "She. . ." Sara swallowed hard. "You and her. . ."

Michael looked to the phone and back to her several times before, for whatever reason, his brain engaged and he realised what had happened. He took a step towards her. “Sara…no! Never.”

"She said. . . she said. . ." Sara paused, trying to get a hold of herself. "Is that where you were this morning?"

“I was at work this morning,” Michael said surely. “You know that,” Michael told her.

Sara took another step away from him. "She said at least now I know about you!"

“Know what?” Michael snapped. “She’s lying, Sara! I haven’t seen her since…well, since that day in the supermarket. And you were there. That was way before Roman was even born,” he argued. “How am I supposed to have an affair with someone I never see?”

Sara felt tears well in her eyes. "You are sleeping with her, aren't you? It's not like you'd just come out and tell me! Look at me, I'm pregnant and fat and my ankles are huge and I'm sick all the time!"

“Sara, calm down,” Michael said slowly, taking another step towards her and reaching his arm out to touch her elbow. “I’m not sleeping with anyone but you, you hear me?”

Sara yanked her arm away from his as a tear slipped down her cheek. "Don't touch me!"

“Oh my god, Sara,” Michael sighed, yanking his arm back and waving his hands in the air as he let out a breath. “I can’t believe you’d trust her word over mine. She is doing this on purpose because she is a vindictive…” Michael paused, clenching his fist closed next to his face.

"What am I supposed to believe?" Sara sniffed. "Was she the one who called when we were sitting here earlier?"

Michael looked away from her. His silence was his answer. He shook his head slowly and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and turning away from her to pace the lounge.

Sara crossed her arms over her chest. "How long has it been going on, Michael?"

Michael spun to face her again, and lurched towards her. “That’s what I am trying to tell you! Nothing is going on!”

"How am I supposed to believe you, Michael?!" Sara snapped. She bit her lip. "It wouldn't be the first time you lied!"

“Oh yeah, okay, throw that in my face,” Michael spat, laughing evilly as he rubbed his hand over his head. “And what about you?” Michael frowned at her. “I’m just supposed to take it on faith you never slept with Lincoln?” It was low, and Michael knew it, but he didn’t care. If Sara could bring up the past, so could he.

"Don't you even go there!" Sara snapped, pointing her finger at him. "Don't you even! When have I ever, ever given you a reason to think I would lie to you, Michael!?"

“And when have I ever given you a reason to think I would cheat on you!” Michael roared. “Don’t you see? This is what she wants!”

"Just get out!" Sara snapped, walking up towards him and shoving him. "Just get out. Just get the hell out and go be with her. Leave us alone!"

Michael stumbled backwards, taken back by her sudden abrupt violence and caught her wrists in his hands the second time she tried. “No, Sara!” he shook his head insolently. “You can’t throw me out of my house and stop me from seeing my kids!”

"Yes, I can!" Sara hissed, trying to yank out of his grasp. "Yes, I can, yes, I can. Once and for all, just get out of my life!"

Sara slipped from Michael grasp and he shielded his face when she tried to thump against his shoulders again. “No!” he yelled back at her, ducking out of her hormone driven rage. “Sara, please, calm down. Think of the baby!”

"Michael, I --" Her voice cut off, and she stepped away from him, leaning against the wall. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed a hand to her stomach. "Oh."

Michael let his hands drop from his face and he perked up with sudden worry. “Sara? What is it?” he asked quickly, stepping towards her and trying to search her face for an answer.

"I'm okay, I'm okay. . ." Sara waved him away. She took a deep breath. "I just. . . I just need a minute."

“You have to calm down. Right now,” Michael ordered her, pointing at her while she clutched harder to her abdomen. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

"Don't tell me wha --" Sara cut off again and pressed her head against the wall, sliding down it a little bit. "Oh, God."

“Okay, that’s not just a cramp,” Michael nodded to himself, rushing to her side and holding her up. He held onto her elbow and her shoulder, holding her tightly while she winced in pain. “We have to call someone,” Michael said quickly and panicky, looking over to the phone.

"No, no no, it's okay. . ." Sara shook her head. "It's okay. This happened with Roman. They're just. . . just Braxton Hicks." She pressed her hand harder against her stomach. "Calm down, baby."

Michael slid his hand down to her abdomen, cradling it under her extended belly and watching her face as she breathed. After a few seconds she seemed to relax but Michael felt his hand grow hot and wet. He frowned and looked down, his mouth open in horror. “Sara?”

Sara followed his gaze down, then looked back up at him slightly panicked. It was too early. Way too early. She leaned forward, praying it would go away if she hid her face on Michael's chest. "Oh, God. Michael."

“Okay, um…” Michael began to panic and held her to him. Sara’s water had just broken and there was no going back from that. “…What…the phone…” he said quickly to himself, looking over to it. He pulled Sara away from his chest and cupped her face in his hand, lifting her water eyes to his. “Sara, I have to go get the phone, okay? Okay?”

"No," Sara gripped onto his shirt and shook her head. "No, no, no. It's too early. We'll just, we'll just wait here and it will stop."

Michael was pulled back to her and shook his head, gripped her face in his hands again. “Sara, it won’t stop,” he said firmly and she began to cry harder. “This is it. She’s coming.”

Sara took hold of Michael's hand and shook her head pitifully. "It's too early. She won't. . . she won't. . ."

“No, don’t say that,” Michael shook his head and gulped hard. He knew the chances of his daughter surviving at this point were slim. They were even slimmer should he fail to get Sara to the hospital. “She’ll be fine,” he murmured softly, resting his forehead against Sara’s. “I promise. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Sara reached up, cupping Michael's cheek with one hand. She took a deep, shaky breath. "Michael, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

“Stop apologizing,” he choked out. “This isn’t your fault,” he shook his head and turned them around so his back was to the phone. “Sara, look at me,” Michael said, stroking his thumb over her cheek to encourage her to open her eyes. “I have to get the phone,” he said slowly. “Just keep looking at me, okay?” he started to back away from her. “Watch me, Sara. I’m right here.”

Sara leaned against the wall and let Michael move towards the phone. She continued to rub her hand on slow circles over her belly muttering, "It's too early," over and over.

Michael bumped into the telephone table, turning quickly and dialing the emergency number had memorized since Sara had told him she was pregnant. It took what felt like an eternity for anyone to pick up and finally they did and Michael gushed with relief. “Yes, my wife…she’s in labor…” Michael stuttered, turning back to Sara who was chanting over and over. “…Her waters have broken but it’s too early. It's nine weeks too early,” he sighed heavily into the phone. “Thank you…than you,” he said quickly, shutting off the phone when the woman said they were sending and ambulance. Michael clutched the phone in his hand and ran back to Sara, dialing Lincoln’s number as he did so. “Come on, Lincoln. Pick up. Pick up.”

Lincoln glanced at the caller ID and grabbed Roman who was running around. He tossed him over his shoulder. "It's Mommy and Daddy, bud!" He clicked the phone on. "Hey!"

Michael panted into the phone while Sara let out another gasp of pain. “She’s coming!” Michael yelled into the phone, smoothing his hand over Sara’s brow and holding her hair out of her face.

Lincoln paused and set Roman down, arching his eyebrow. "Uh, Michael. You didn't have to call to tell me that. I'm sure you're pretty good at getting Sara to that point by now, it's nothing to brag about. . ."

“Lincoln!” Michael scolded angrily. “Dammit! The baby! The baby is coming!” He paused for a second to tell Sara to breathe and hold her forehead to his. “You’ll have to watch Roman.”

Lincoln stopped moving and took in a deep breath. "The baby? Michael, Sara is only. . . How. . ."

“Don’t you think I know that!” Michael snapped, trying to keep calm for Sara. “Lincoln, please…”

"Yeah, man," Lincoln said quickly. "As long as you need. Anything you need. Call me, okay? I love you. Tell Sara I love her. Don't worry about Roman."

Michael caught the flashing of blue lights out the corner of his eye and arched his neck to look out of the front window. An ambulance had parked at the end of the driveway and Michael was thankful they still had their address on record after all the surgeries he had had. “I gotta go, Linc. The ambulance is here,” he said quickly, ending the call and tossing the phone to the couch. “I have to answer the door, Sara,” Michael soothed, walking backwards from her again.

Sara sniffled and tried her best to wipe away her run away tears. She gave Michael another forlorn glance. "I am so sorry."

“This isn’t your fault…” Michael said quickly, opening the front door for the paramedics. They gave him a smile as they walked in, straight over to Sara and without saying too much, and managed to bundle her into the ambulance while Michael had run upstairs to get her bag. Michael grabbed his door keys and his jacket as he rushed from the house, slamming the door behind him and climbing into the ambulance with Sara. “You’re okay,” he nodded, taking her hand in his. “I’m here. You’re okay.”

"No, I'm not, no I'm not. . ." Sara felt numb as she shook her head. "I'm not okay if she's not okay. I did this, I did this."

“Please, Sara…” Michael choked, looking down to the floor. “…Nothing is going to happen to you. Either of you.”

Sara squeezed his hand tightly and brought it to her lips, kissing his knuckles. "Promise me, Michael?"

“I promise,” Michael said firmly. “I promise.” His voice broke as he spoke and he almost lurched forward into her lap when the ambulance ground to a halt. The two paramedics hopped out, and Michael heard someone outside rattling a wheelchair to the back of the ambulance. The back doors swung open and Michael jumped out and offered Sara his hand.

Sara took a deep breath as Michael and the paramedics helped her out into the wheel chair. She knew very well that no matter how early it was, they could still have a very long night ahead of them. She reached for Michael's hand, "Don't leave me."

“Oh, baby,” Michael smiled weakly, brushing her hair from her face and planting soft kisses on her face. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, kissing her one last time before the nurse told him they had to get Sara to the ward.

Sara nodded slowly. "Okay. Okay. We can do this. She'll be okay."

Michael gripped at Sara’s hand and practically ran alongside the wheelchair as they hurried Sara through the hospital. Michael panted hard. He had never felt so helpless and so scared in his entire life. With Roman it was different. He knew, that when he was born, he would cry out and they would hold him in their arms. Now their daughter was coming, over two months too soon, and he knew that things wouldn’t be the same. They would be so very different. And that scared Michael so much.

Sara quickly changed into a hospital gown, and crawled into her hospital bed. She was hooked up to monitors, and was told the doctors would be in shortly. She took a deep breath and reached for Michael's hand again. "Baby. . ."

“I’m here. I’m here,” Michael soothed her sitting as close to her as he possibly could on the bed. He brushed the hair from her brow, sliding his hand down the side of his face and thumbing her cheek softly. “Sara, I love you. I love you so, so much.”

A contraction seized Sara and she drew in her breath, as tears filled her eyes. "Oh, God. Oh, Michael. Today is supposed to be a happy day."

“Don’t…” Michael pleaded as he closed his eyes and held Sara’s hand in his, pulling the bundle of fingers to his forehead and holding them there. “Don’t.”

Sara pulled Michael closer to her, resting her forehead against his. She choked back a sob. "Michael. . . Michael, we're not even going to get to touch her."

“Sara, please…” Michael sobbed, feeling the burn of tears in his throat, choking off his air supply. He had tried to be strong but for some reason, now they were at the hospital, Michael was falling apart.

"Please don't cry," Sara pulled Michael even closer to her, and held his face to his shoulder. She turned her head and kissed his cheek. "I'm so sorry, Michael. Please don't hate me."

Michael wrapped his arm around Sara’s shoulders and held her to him. “Sara, I don’t hate you,” he rasped, his voice cracking and breaking with every word. “I could never hate you.”

Sara snaked her arm around his waist and sobbed into his shirt. "Oh, baby. What was I doing? What was I thinking? I know you'd never cheat on me. I'm so, so sorry."

“Please…” Michael sobbed, his breath hitching in his throat. “Nothing is your fault,” he lifted his head and cupped her face in his hands. He crushed her lips to his, clutching desperately at her face while his tears mingled with hers. “You hear me. Nothing.”

Sara leaned back against the pillow, rubbing her hand over her stomach. "If anything, Michael, if anything happens to our baby girl, I swear to God, I will kill her."

Michael clenched his jaw and his fists at the same time. In all the commotion he had forgotten about Nika. He pushed himself to his feet and began pacing the room, covering his face with his hands and holding his breath at irregular intervals. He let out small laughs every now and again, feeling helpless to stop his tears. His lip quivered and he slammed his hands flat against the wall, pressing his forehead in between them. “You won’t have to.”

"Michael, Michael. . . come sit with me? Please?" Before she could say anything else, their doctor entered the room.

  
"Mr. and Mrs. Scofield, it's a surprise to see you here."

Michael looked up to the doctor and the back to Sara. “What’s’ going on? Is my daughter okay?”

"It's early," the doctor told them seriously, stepping closer to them and meeting Michael's eyes. "It's very early. When she comes out. . . you won't be able to hold her. We're going to have to get her to the NICU right away. She isn't going to be able to breathe or eat on her own."

Michael walked over to Sara and collapsed down onto the bed next to her. He hunched over himself, and buried his face in his hands. He didn’t even bother to hide his cries, or the shaking of his body as he fell sideways and clutched at Sara’s body. He felt broken and deadened and his brain didn’t want to accept what it was being told. “Oh god…”

"I'm not going to lie to you two. Michael, Sara, her chances are not very good. . . it's completely up to her whether or not she makes it. We can only do so much." The doctor glanced down at her file. "Did something stressful happen to trigger this?"

Sara pressed her hand to her forehead. "It's my fault. It's all my fault."

“No…” Michael said firmly, wiping his eyes quickly. “It’s my fault,” he told the doctor sadly. He turned back to Sara quickly and pressed his forehead against hers again, stroking her cheek with his knuckles. “I should have told you. She’s been calling for days. I should have told you.”

"No," Sara said firmly, shaking her head and choking on a sob. "No, no, no. Michael, I know you and you'd never. Oh, God, I did this. . ."

The doctor cleared her throat. "I've been doing this a long time, and I can tell you both that placing blame on anyone isn't going to make your daughter any better." She moved towards Sara. "Sara, I'm going to check how dilated you are now."

“Dilated?” Michael said, bemused. He shook his head. “No, no no no…” he told the doctor firmly. “Sara cannot deliver a baby she can’t hold. I can’t…Can’t you do something else?”

"Her water is broken, Michael," the doctor said seriously, lifting up the blanket so she could check Sara. "All we can do is get this baby out of her and into an incubator as soon as possible." She released the blanket. "We're almost there, Sara. Are you about ready to push?"

"No." Sara swallowed and glanced to Michael. "No, I can't."

“Nothing? You can’t do anything?” Michael whispered to the doctor, his breathing hitching. The doctor shook her head sadly and offered Michael a sympathetic smile. “But you said…” Michael held his hand over his mouth, looking away from the doctor. “…S…she will…She won’t…” Michael’s breath hitched even harder and he hid his face in his hand, unable to comprehend what would happen after Sara gave birth.

The doctor nodded and sighed. "Alright, Sara. I'm going to have the nurses wheel you into maternity, okay? And then we're gonna deliver this baby."

  
Sara gripped onto Michael's hand as the doctor positioned the blanket around her knees. "Alright, Sara. I'm going to need you to push for me, right now."

Sara took a deep breath and got ready to push, but broke off on a sob. She glanced over to Michael. "I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't, baby."

Michael felt his own tears burn a trail down his face and he clutched harder to hers. “Sara, you have to…” he cried harder at his own words. He couldn’t believe how much he didn’t want to tell Sara to push, but he had to. For his daughter, if not for anything else.

"No," Sara said defiantly, pressing her head into the pillow. "No. I won't do it."

The doctor looked up to Michael. "We need this baby out. Now."

Michael rn a shaking hand over his mouth and shuffled closer to Sara next to the bed. He smoothed one of his hand down the sheet covering her thigh and laced his fingers with hers. “Please, Sara…” he gasped on a breath. “…You have to push. For me. For the baby.”

"Michael. . " Sara rolled her forehead against his, and sobbed. "Michael, if I push. . ."

“If you don’t…” Michael closed his eyes, gripping her face in his hand and his lip quivering so close to hers he could feel her breath on his face. “Sara…please…”

Sara took his hand in hers and gave one single nod, pushing as her next contraction hit her. She squeezed her eyes shut and choked on a sob, letting out a wail as she struggled to push her daughter out.

Michael gripped as tightly to Sara’s hand as she was to his and he held her hand to his lips while he sobbed silently into her skin. There were some things in this world no one should ever have to do. This was one of them, second only to delivering a dead child, and Michael’s heart bled in his chest for his wife.

Sara squeezed Michael's hand and pushed again as another contraction seized her. It hurt so bad, she could barely take it. It hadn't hurt so bad with Roman. She let out another sob and sniffed loudly, letting out another wail. She wanted it over.

“That’s good, Sara. One more,” the doctor said, hiding her sadness behind her mask.

When Sara’s entire body contracted with her contraction, Michael leaned forward and pressed his forehead to her temple. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her ear, his quaky breath condensing against her already sweaty skin. His words were almost lost in Sara’s cries when finally she relaxed and the doctor hurriedly cut the baby’s cord and handed her tiny, palm sized body to another doctor, who practically ran out of the room with her.

Sara squeezed her eyes shut tightly, and kept her forehead pressed to Michael's head, shaking her head slowly. She tried to control her crying. "Did you see her?"

“No…” he cried softly, not opening his eyes. “…I missed our baby girl.”

Sara brought her hand up, cradling Michael's cheek in her hand. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Michael shook his head, rolling his forehead over Sara’s as he did so. Neither had their eyes open and both were crying the same sorrowful tears through closed eyelids. “This is my fault…” Michael whispered in a raspy voice. “…Please don’t be sorry. Blame me if you have to, but don’t be sorry.”

The silence in the room was too much to bear. No one was talking or even moving, simply frozen and watching the display before them. The doctor cleared her throat softly and regained her composure. “Sara, we have to deliver the after birth,” she said sadly and Michael shifted sideways and let Sara bury her face in his shoulder.

Sara pressed her face into Michael's shoulder, letting out another sob. "I don't want to do it."

Michael looked at the doctor, begging her with his eyes to not make Sara do this. He would do anything within his power to make it stop. Make it all disappear. This was a dream and they would both wake up soon and they wouldn’t be in a hospital, crying into each other's shoulder or living on a knifes edge for fear of losing their daughter. The doctor shook her head apologetically and Michael’s heart broke a bit more. “Sara…” he whispered, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

Sara shook her head harder, choking on a sob. She gripped onto Michael's shirt, pulling away to look at him. "I'm not doing it!"

“You can’t fight your body,” the doctor said a little harshly, trying to make Sara understand. “It will want to deliver this placenta.”

“Baby…” Michael breathed softly, stroking her hair from her brow and ducking his head lower to catch her watery gaze. “…I’m right here,” he promised faithfully, pulling her into another hug. He let his eyes fall closed and he sobbed into her hair. “I’ll always be right here.”

"Promise?" Sara murmured into his neck, dropping her voice to a whisper. She pressed her hand to the side of his neck, sobbing quietly. "Promise me. I'm so sorry."

Michael wrapped his arms around her more tightly and gulped a burning lump of tears down his throat. “I promise so much.”

Sara nodded into his shirt and squeezed tightly to him. She kept her arms locked around him and let another sob out as she pushed.

“Good, Sara…” The doctor cheered enthusiastically, almost shattering the silence in the room with her happy tone. When the placenta was almost out, she pulled the rest and it landed in the silvery bowl that she had placed outside of Sara’s body. Picking up the bowl, she handed it to someone over her shoulder and then inspected Sara’s vagina and cervix for lacerations and bleeding.

“Good girl…” Michael whispered, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her cheeks softly, one at a time before finally pressing his still quivering lips to hers. “…I love you.”

Sara kept her eyes closed and pressed her mouth to his, cupping his face in her hands. "Michael. . ."

“I know…” Michael whimpered, nodding slowly. “…We’ll see her soon. I swear to you, with all my heart.”

"I don't want. . ." Sara shook her head against his. "I don't want to see anyone."

Michael stroked at her hair faster, smoothing his other hand down her leg. “You don’t have to see anyone. I’ll keep you safe,” he whispered, holding her hand tighter as they began to wheel her back to her room.

"You should. . ." Sara released her tight hold on his hand. "You should go see what you can find out."

Michael just looked at her for a second before offering her a small glimmer of hope in the guise of a weak smile. “I’ll be right back, I promise, okay?” he told her, pressing his lips to her forehead and smoothing his hand down her shoulder.

"Okay," Sara nodded, then sniffled. She pushed her hair behind her ear. "If you see her, tell her I love her."

Michael left Sara in her room, staring numbly at the wall beside her bed while he went to find a doctor. Their daughter had been ushered from the room so quickly, he hadn’t even seen her. What colour was her hair, her eyes, how many toes did she have? Tiny little things he wished he could have known. He wandered the halls for a second before the sound of screaming caught his attention and he managed to find his way to the nursery. Michael pressed his hand to the glass as he scanned the cots for his daughter but there was no baby Scofield to be seen.

“Mr. Scofield?” a soft voice came from behind him and he turned to see a face he recognised as the doctor from the delivery. “Can we have a chat?” Michael followed the doctor into a nearby room and she motioned for him to sit.

“No thanks, I’ll stand,” Michael said softly, rubbing his hands over the back of his head. “What’s happened? Is she okay? Where have you taken her?” Michael’s questions came thick and fast and he couldn’t even hear himself speaking.

"Michael, she's in the NICU," the doctor said slowly, crossing her arms in front of himself. "It's pretty hit or miss at this point, Michael. We have her hooked up to a lot of monitors."

“Monitors?” Michael asked shocked. “I mean…what, she can’t breathe on her own? Or what…”

"Her lungs are very small and underdeveloped," the doctor explained. "There's no way she can breathe or eat on her own. We'll be feeding her through a tube."

Michael pinched his eyes shut and covered his face with his hands. This was not happening. Any second now, Lincoln would jump out and tell him it was all a game. “How…” he began sadly, his words muffled by his hand. “…What are her chances?”

"Michael, there's. . ." the doctor sighed and shook her head, taking a deep breath. "There's not much of a chance of her surviving. At this point, we suggest that you name her, and christen her if you want, and say your goodbyes."

“Goodbye?” he laughed weakly and then collapsed down into a near by chair. He hung his head and began to sob into his hands, wiping at his tears quickly and pressing his fingers into the corner of his eyes. “I can’t…Sara…” he sobbed. How was he supposed to tell her?

"I know it's difficult, Michael, but if you don't tell her goodbye now, you'll regret it," the doctor stood. "You and Sara both. Are you going to tell her or do you want me too?"

“I’ll tell her,” he said quickly, covering his mouth with a shaky hand. “Can I…” he paused, looking up to the doctor and stopping her as she began to leave. “…Can I see her? Before I tell Sara.”

"Yeah," the doctor nodded slowly. "She's in an incubator, you won't be able to touch her, but you can see her, Michael."

Michael followed the doctor out of the room, past the nursery where all the healthy, wailing babies were crying for attention, wrapped in blue or pink blankets with matching bonnets. They passed through another set of doors and the corridor was eerily silent, with little activity from only two nurses behind the desk and a host of darkened rooms that emitted beeps and whistles intermittently. Michael gulped as he looked around in horror, taking the mask and gown that was handed to him by the doctor and putting them on before he followed her into the dark ward.

There was a dim light shining on one incubator and a nurse was busy watching the new arrival eagerly, checking her chart against corresponding data on the machines. Michael took the steps closer, almost scared to see his own daughter. Finally, he saw her, hidden in a mass of wires, tubes and lost in the sound of the respirator slowly inflating her chest to help her breathe. Michael broke down, covering his mouth with a palm as he looked away, unable to comprehend the situation before him.

"I know she's tiny," the doctor said softly, nodding slowly. "But talk to her. She can hear you, okay?" She continued to show Michael where to dispose of his scrubs when he was done before he went back to see Sara. "I'll give you two some alone time."

Michael nodded and sighed, turning back to the tiny palm sized baby in front of him. He sat down in one of the seats slowly and leaned forward to look into the box. Her skin was almost see through and he could make out all her blood vessels and the tiny beat of her heart under her pale skin. Her eyes were covered with a white sheet to keep out the light and shield her thin eyelids from the blinding lights. Michael took a breath and tried to see past all the technology keeping her alive. “Hey…baby,” he stammered and then laughed softly. “You don’t even have a name yet do you, sweetie?”

The baby didn’t move except for the rise and fall of her chest as the machines kept her tiny lungs inflating and deflating.

“I’m your daddy…” Michael sobbed, pressed his hand to the Plexiglas of the incubator. “And I love you so much.” He paused, looking down at his feet. “Your mommy is so scared because you came too early,” he said softly, focusing on the floor. “So you have to get better so she doesn’t have to be scared anymore, okay? You hear me?” he smiled weakly, looking back up to the baby. There was a pause of silence and then he spoke again. “Good girl.”

When Michael walked back into Sara’s room, there was more silence. She had been crying, he could see that, and he walked over to the edge of her bed slowly. “Baby?” he tested her reaction with a soft greeting. “I saw her.”

"You did?" Sara glanced up at him hopefully. "How does she look. What color eyes does she have? Did you touch her?"

Michael paused half way between her bed and the chair next to it, looking down and shaking his head slowly. “She can’t be touched and I couldn’t see her eyes.” He motioned to an invisible mask over his face. “She has this thing…to protect her eyes because she’s so small…” he swallowed a hard lump down his throat and then sat down on the edge of Sara’s bed. “She’s so tiny…” he said with a choked voice, breaking out into more tears, lifting his hands and imagining her lying in his palm. “Sara, the doctor said we should name her…and christen her…in case…” he sobbed harder, unable to let the words form in his mouth.

Sara felt her face crumple and she leaned over, pressing her face into her hands. "Michael, we can't. . ." She let out a sob. "Do you think she's going to. . ."

“I don’t know,” he shook his head softly, reaching out and resting his hand to Sara’s shoulder. “We should at least name her. We owe her that much.”

"We owe her that much?" Sara pulled away from Michael and glared at him. "You mean I owe her that much? Since this is my fault."

“Sara, no…” he argued softly, looking away from her and pulling his hand back down onto his lap. “I meant, if she is going to…” he paused, feeling the hot sting of tears pricking at his eyes again. “…She needs a name. So she knows we love her and have faith in her to pull through this.”

"Fine," Sara mumbled, fixing her gaze on the wall in front of her. "Give her a name."

Michael whipped his head to Sara and frowned. “Why are you being difficult? All she needs is a name, Sara. You can’t even give her that,” Michael snapped but he didn’t mean to. His emotions were running so high he had no idea how he hadn’t broken down and lost it completely. He looked away from her and bit his lip between his teeth. “I’m sorry.”

Sara remained quiet for several long moments, her jaw clenched tightly. She crossed her arms in front of her, suddenly remembering their conversation about names not that long ago. "Sophia."

Michael looked up and a small smile spread across his face. “Sophia,” he repeated on a breath. “Yeah, she looks like a Sophia.”

Sara tried to get control of her tears and nodded slowly. "Do you think I can see her?"

“The doctor said you have to rest,” Michael sighed softly. “I’m sorry, Sara. This is all my fault. If I had just told you that…that bitch was stalking me…” Michael clenched his jaw and pushed himself to his feet, running his hands over his scalp and digging his nails into his flesh angrily.

Sara leaned her head against the pillow and closed her eyes. She motioned to the phone. "I need you to call Linc and make sure Roman is okay."

Michael moved back towards her and sat down in the seat next to her bed. He pulled it closer and smoothed his hand over her hair, brushing it back over her head. “Roman is fine. Please don’t shut me out because of this, Sara,” Michel begged softly, sighing. “We have to stay strong. Together.”

Sara opened her eyes and looked at him. She sighed. "What do you want me to say, Michael?"

Michael shook his head. “You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to hers. “Blame me if you have to…” he breathed, fluttering his eyes closed and taking her hand in his. “…But please don’t push me away. Not when we need each other the most.”

Sara sighed and felt tears well in her eyes again. She pressed her hand to his neck and shook her head. "I don't want to blame you, Michael. I don't blame you. I blame me."

Michael rolled his forehead against her and let a tear fall from his closed eyelid. “Please don’t blame yourself,” he rasped, his words catching in his throat. “I can’t let you do that.”

Sara pressed her cheek to his and let out a quiet sob. "I. . . I don't want to talk about it!"

Michael was stunned to silence and he shifted onto the bed, wrapping his arms around Sara and pulling her into his embrace while she cried. He held her to his chest, her tears soaking his shirt while he smoothed his hands over her back, warming her skin with his hands and hushing her sobs with a gentle shushing sound. It was almost more than he could take and Michael rested his cheek on the top of her head and cried with her.


	56. Chapter 56

Michael pulled the gown on over his clothes and grabbed a facemask from the box hanging on the wall outside of the intensive care baby unit of the hospital. He peered through the window and saw Sara hunched over the incubation unit their daughter was in. Sophia Christina was born nine weeks early weighing just 4lbs and 12 oz. Michael had started to deal with the fact that the chances of his daughter’s survival were slim, even two weeks after she had first been admitted. It was still hard for him to see her, tiny and untouchable in her Plexiglas prison with wires and electrodes attached to her almost transparent skin.

Sara sat in a chair next to Sophia, pressing her hands against the Plexiglas. She glanced over at Michael as he entered the room, wiping her eyes. "They want to do some tests. They said if we wanted to go home and change we should it while she's in tests."

Michael walked over to other and rested his hand to her shoulder, squeezing it slowly. He held the mask over his face loosely. “You should go and get some rest. Be with Roman for a while. I’ll stay with her,” he said, his words muffled by the fabric over his face.

Sara sniffled and pulled away from Michael's touch. "I'm still not supposed to drive. I'll need you to take me home."

“Okay…” he said slowly, offering her his hand. “I’ll take you home, and then I’ll come back. Linc is at home with Roman so if you want to rest, just leave him with him,” he said, but his words went unheard. Michael titled his head and rubbed her back softly. “Sara?” he whispered.

"I don't want to rest," Sara snapped. She stood and shook her head. "I just want a shower, and then I want to come back. Okay."

“Okay…” Michael agreed exhaustedly, letting his eyes close and following her from the ward. They pulled off their gowns and threw them in the waste and Michael followed Sara down the corridor at least ten paces behind her. Michael had spent the last two weeks on eggshells, unsure what to say to Sara, other than ‘okay’ and ‘you need rest’. It never occurred to him how he felt about nearly losing his daughter. All he cared about was Sara and how she was coping with it. So far neither of them had comforted each other and the tension between them was at breaking point.

Sara talked with the doctors for a moment before grabbing her purse and turning to Michael. She cleared her throat. "I, uh, don't know where you're parked."

“It’s this way,” Michael said sadly, walking her through the automatic doors and out into the parking lot. True to form, it was raining in Chicago, and it seemed it had been for the last two weeks. If they weren’t depressed enough, the weather was really bringing them down more. “What did the doctors say?” Michael asked softly, opening the truck and helping her in.

Sara waited for him to walk around to his side of the car and get in before speaking. "They said they're going to run some tests. And if the results come back badly, they want to consider taking her off the machines."

Michael moved a shaking hand to cover his mouth and held his breath, holding back tears. He closed his eyes and then fidgeted more, gripping the steering wheel and resting his head to it between his hands. He didn’t know how to feel, or show what he was feeling. All he could think of doing was to hide his face from Sara. One of them had to stay strong.

Sara kept her gaze outside on the other cars in the parking lot. She took a deep breath. "Can we just go?"

Michael nodded and started the engine, pulling out of the parking lot quickly and heading home. They made it there in silence. There was no touching and no speaking, not even a slight glance toward each other. Neither of them was to blame for what was happening but the way Sara looked at Michael recently was a heart rendering reminder that deep down she blamed him. When they pulled into the driveway, Sara exited the truck and made her way indoors without him and he followed her slowly, giving her space.

Roman greeted Sara at the door and she couldn't help but break out into a smile as she kneels down and he wrapped his arms around her. "Hiii, baby. How's my baby boy?" She pressed her face into his neck, trying to hold back tears.

“Roman miss mommy,” he whined, pressing his palms to her cheeks and kissing her on the lips. “Why you and daddy always gone?” he looked up to Michael who appeared behind her and smiled down at his son weakly. “Uncle Linc smelly!”

Michael leaned over Sara’s shoulder and ruffled Roman’s hair. “Uncle Linc doesn’t smell,” he chuckled softly, walking past them and over to his brother in the lounge. Michael stood next to him and turned back to face Roman with a screwed up face, holding his nose and rolling his eyes back in his head, making Roman giggle loudly. Roman knew Sophia was born but he didn’t really understand why she couldn’t come home.

Sara pressed a kiss into Roman's neck and pulled away. "Mommy missed you." She stood up and glanced towards Michael. "I'm going to go shower." Without waiting for his response, she moved upstairs.

Michael nodded and watched her go, quickly turning to Lincoln and sighing. “I can’t do this anymore…” he whispered as Roman ran past them and into the yard where he resumed playing with some toy soldiers.

Lincoln sighed and watched Roman go. He didn't know what to say. After a minute he turned to Michael, pressing his hand to his neck and drawing him to him. "Come here, buddy."

Michael broke down, clutching his hands into each other behind Lincoln’s back and heaving sobs into his shoulder. His body rocked with his tears and he physically shook, gripping tightly at Lincoln’s shirt and pinching his eyes closed.

"It's gonna be okay," Lincoln pressed his hand firmly to the back of Michael's skull, holding him against his shoulder. He gripped onto the back of Michael's shirt. "You have Sara, you have Ro, you have me. It's going to be okay."

“No…” Michael sniffed, shaking his head and pulling his face from Lincoln’s shirt. He rested his hands on Lincoln’s shoulders and look down between them to his feet, letting his tears fall to the floor. “I’m losing her, Linc. She won’t look at me…” his breath hitched in his throat. “…She won’t touch me. I can’t touch her without her flinching…” he timidly ran his hand over his unshaven jaw and cried harder. “…The doctors…they want to turn off life support and all Sara does is pretend I don’t exist…” he motioned to the top of the stairs, moving from Lincoln and pacing the lounge. “I just…I can’t…lose…them both. I just can’t!”

Lincoln put his hands on Michael's shoulders and squeezed hard. "Michael. You are not going to lose, Sara. You two have been through. . . more than any two people should ever have to go through." He pushed Michael towards the stairs. "Go talk to her."

Michael shook his head and pushed against his brother. “She won’t talk to me…she won’t talk to anyone!” Michael said, continuously shaking his head as he focused on the floor in front of him as he paced. “My baby girl is going to die and I am going to lose everything!”

"Michael. . ." Lincoln grabbed onto him, forcing him to stop. "Michael! This is only going to get worse if you don't talk to Sara. Worse. Do you want to imagine what that's going to be like?"

Michael looked away from Lincoln not caring that his face was streaked with tears. “It’s already worse.”

"Michael. . ." Lincoln pulled him back in for another hug, feeling his own eyes well with tears. "Just have a little faith."

Michael pushed Lincoln away from him and hissed through gritted teeth. “Linc, I appreciate everything you’re doing for us…looking after Roman, and the house…” he growled, trying to keep his voice lowered and calm. “…But when your world starts falling around you? Then you can tell me to have faith!” he spat, turning from his brother and pressing his body into the wall, covering his face and shaking with his cries. “Oh god…” he sobbed, his voice changed and watery. “…Why me?”

Lincoln took another step back towards Michael. "I know, man. I know I don't know what it's like. . . I know. . ." He pressed a hand to his shoulder. "I wish I could do something, buddy. I wish I could take it all away."

“Please…” Michael begged his brother as he slid to the floor. “I want to die…” Michael cried, hunching his body over in a crumpled mess on the floor. He kicked out at the edge of the coffee table with his boot, venting his anger into his furniture. “Make it stop…”

"I wish I could, I wish I could make it stop," Lincoln murmured, kneeling beside Michael. "I would do anything to make it stop." He kept his hand pressed to Michael's shoulder, kneading slow circles in the material of his baby brother's shirt. "I love you, buddy."

Michael launched forward, grappling Lincoln in another clumsy hug and nearly knocking him off balance. Michael couldn’t say it through all his crying but Lincoln knew he loved him back.

“Daddy? Why you cry?” Roman asked from the doorway, his face void of colour and his trademark grin as he clutched to a toy soldier in his hands.

"Hey, buddy. . ." Linc moved over to Roman and scooped him up in his arms. "Daddy's having a bad day, but he'll be okay. Your Daddy loves you sooo much." He paused when he saw Sara coming down the stairs, her wet hair in a ponytail. "Come on! Let's go upstairs and see what we can find to play." He stopped on his way upstairs, pulling Sara to him and kissing her cheek. "I love you."

Michael lifted his head and focused his watery eyes on Sara as she reached the bottom of the stairs. He scrambled to his feet and walked over to her slowly, wiping his tears with the back of his hand and drying them on his shirt. He sniffed but as soon as he looked at her he burst out crying again.

Sara stepped off the bottom step and crossed her arms over her still slightly pudgy figure. The fact that she had delivered early, coupled with her not being able to breast feed and unable to eat had made her lose several pounds quickly. She cleared her throat and brushed her hair behind her ear, "Michael. . ."

“Don’t…” Michael stopped her, his voice broken and full of sobbing. “…I love you so much, Sara…I am so sorry,” he cried, stepping into her body and wrapping his arms around her. “I am so sorry…” he repeated over and over into her wet hair.

Sara let him hold her for a second before pulling out of his embrace. She locked her jaw tightly, glancing towards the ground. "We should probably. . . we should probably. . ." Before she could finish her sentence she broke out into a sob.

Michael pulled her into another hug, holding her tightly to him until she relaxed and gave up struggling against him. “We have to do this…” Michael sobbed, smoothing his hand down her back. “…We’ll kill each other if we don’t talk about it, Sara.”

"I don't want. . ." Sara hit her fist against his chest, raising her voice. "I don't want to talk about this! I can't do it."

Michael took her blows through his tears, letting out small painful yelps as she hit him. “Sara…she might die…” his breath hitched at his words that were a lot scarier said out loud. “…We might lose her,” he cried, gripping her wrists and stopping her angrier blows at his words. He let his hands quickly grip her face and he shook her head until she was looking at him. “We can’t lose each other.”

"Shut up. . . shut up. . ." Sara's breath hitched in her throat and she shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. "Shut up, Michael. Shut the fuck up." Another sob gripped her, and she ripped out of his embrace, turning away.

Michael took a step after her. “It doesn’t matter how you dress it up, Sara…” he yelled, pointing at her. “Our baby might die and I know what you’re feeling. Anger. Depression. Loneliness. Hatred…” he whispered, looking down to the floor.

"Stop yelling at me!" Sara turned around, matching his tone with a shout of her own. "How dare you tell me how you think I feel?" She lowered her voice. "Hatred? Do you think I hate you, Michael? Do you hate me?"

“God, no!” Michael sniffed, slamming his hand into his chest. “I. Hate. Me,” he spat, his anger directed at himself. “I did this! Sophia is barely gripping to life because of me!”

"No. No no no no no . . ." Sara took a step towards him, cupping his face in her hands. She pressed her forehead to his. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare do to that to yourself. To me, to us. Don't you dare, Michael."

Michael softened under her touch, letting his anger escape him on a breathy sob. “I…I can’t…” he tried to speak but his cries caught in his throat and cut off his words each time.

Sara pulled him to her tighter, pressing her face into his neck. "Don't do that to yourself. Please. Please. I need you. Please. . ."

Michael clutched to the back of Sara’s head and held her to him while he nodded slowly. His crying stopped but his throat still spasmed and hitched as he breathed, still burning from his tears. “I’ve always needed you.”

Sara pressed her face into his shoulder, clutching onto his shirt with her hands. She let out a sob into his shirt, shaking her head. "God, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

“Don’t be sorry…” Michael shook his head and cupped her face in his hands. His voice was firm and more masculine than before. “…I don’t need you to be sorry. I need you to be strong. I need you to be brave,” he swept some of her drying hair from her brow and looking into her eyes. “I need you to be Sara.”

"I don't know if I can be, Michael. . ." Sara's bottom lip quivered, and she shook her head slowly. She pressed her hands into his shoulders and sniffled. "I don't know if I'll remember how to be after this."

Michael pressed his lips to her forehead and let them linger on her freshly cleaned skin for a few second. “Then please don’t shut me out again. If your heart is breaking, I want to feel it,” he said firmly, holding her forehead to his and looking into her eyes again. “Sophia needs us.”

Sara's face crumpled and she leaned further into him, taking his wrist in her hand. She sniffled and flattened his palm against her chest, pressing her own hand on top of his. "Then feel it."

If it was even possible, Sara’s heart was beating with irregular thumps under his fingers. It sped up slightly and then seemed to slow suddenly, a tiny piece breaking away from its edge and burying itself in her chest. “I can’t live without you, Sara,” Michael whispered, closing his eyes as he spoke. “I won’t live without you.”

"You don't have to. . ." Sara wailed, shaking her head. She couldn't stop her tears. "Why do you keep saying that? What do you think, Michael? That I won't want you if she. . . if she. . ." Sara cleared her throat. "If she doesn't make it."

“Sara, if she dies…” Michael swallowed hard as he licked his lips. “I will blame myself. Eventually…” he paused, looking away from her. “…I won’t want to live anymore.”

Sara pulled away from him to where they weren't touching anymore. She crossed her arms, and could feel the anger flashing through her eyes. "How can you even say that, Michael."

Michael looked back to her and took a long breath. “I’m so sorry, Sara. I’ve lost too much and there is only so much someone can take,” he paced back towards her, holding out his arms apologetically. “I am tired and I am scared. I don’t even know what I am saying anymore.”

Sara took a shaky breath, stepping back into his embrace. "Michael, I need you to do something for me." She waited until she had his full attention. "I need you to promise me that no matter what happens that we are going to be okay. That we'll make it through this."

Michael took her hand and placed it over his own heart. “Sara, I swear to all that is holy, that we will be okay.” He fiddled his fingers around hers, pressing against his chest with his fingertips. “I know, in here, that we will bring her home and she’ll be fine…” he smiled weakly for a second. “But up here…” he poked himself in the temple, laughing lightly. “…I promise, baby. With all my heart.”

Sara nodded slowly, bringing his head down so she could kiss his forehead. "Let's go see our baby, Michael."

  
Just like when they had left it, the special care ward was silent apart from the tiny beeping of the heart monitors and the rustling of paper each time a nurse check on a chart. Michael was standing next to his daughter’s cuboid home, resting his head on his hand and looking down at her. Her tiny hands flexed briefly, pinching closed around her own thumb before she relaxed. Michael’s other hand was in Sara’s, slowing tracing the lines of her palm with his thumb. “She’s so small,” he whispered sadly.

Sara sucked in her bottom lip and tilted her head to the side doing the best she could to hold back her tears. There was something slightly comforting about the fact that Michael was touching her again. She cleared her throat and turned into Michael, resting her head on his shoulder. "And there's nothing we can do."

“We have to trust the doctors,” Michael said, his voice drowned out by the beeping of Sophia’s monitors. “They know what they are doing.” Just as Michael was speaking, one of Sophia’s doctors walked into the room with a smile that confused Michael.

“Mr. and Mrs. Scofield,” she greeted them warmly, walking around the incubator and opening a small circular hatch to inspect Sophia’s tiny body. “She’s growing nicely,” she said, looking up to Sara. “And we have good news for you.”

Sara arched an eyebrow and glanced in Michael's direction. She was too emotionally drained to deal with the doctor’s cheer. "Good news?"

The doctor nodded and closed the incubator again. Sophia wriggled a little on her soft white blanket before relaxing again. “All Sophia’s tests came back negative. She just wanted to scare us,” the doctor said, looking down at the baby with a smile. “And she has started sucking her thumb.”

Michael looked at the doctor puzzled for a second. His daughter had been born nine weeks early and the doctor was saying that two weeks later it was good news she was sucking her thumb. “What does that mean?” he asked softly, squeezing Sara’s hand a little.

“It means, Mr. Scofield…” the doctor said, moving around the incubator to stand near them both. “…That Sophia has the reflex to begin feeding by herself soon,” she smiled, resting her hand on Sara’s shoulder. “Sara?” she said softly, catching her attention. “It also means you can touch her if you want to?”

"I can. . ." Sara moved her eyes from the doctor down to Sophia, a small smile playing on her face before she could stop it. She bit the inside of her mouth. "I can? Of course, I want to."

Michael smiled and something tugged at his heart when Sara smiled for the first time in two weeks. The doctor nodded and moved between them, unclipped a circular disc from the side of the incubator and pulling the white blanket up over Sophia’s legs and her hugely oversized diaper. The doctor pulled her arm out and gave Sara another warm smile. “Try not to touch her head,” she said softly. “And don’t worry. You won’t break her,” she chuckled, well used to the hesitancy of most mother’s when faced with touching their tiny baby for the first time. “I’ll be back soon.” She said, moving away from them and out of the NICU.

Sara took a step closer to the incubator and reached her hand out towards the hole. Clearing her throat, she hesitated for a moment, then placed her hand inside. Her other hand rested flat against the top of the Plexiglas as she hesitantly stroked one finger down her daughter's arm. Sophia's tiny fingers splayed open and Sarah pressed her finger gently against the baby's palm, waiting to see if her daughter would attempt to take hold of her. She bit hard on her bottom lip as a new batch of tears rushed to her eyes. "Hey there, baby."

Michael stepped up behind Sara and pressed his body into hers. He rested an arm to her shoulder, slowly drawing shapes up and down with his thumb. He lifted his arm and rested his other hand on top of hers on the transparent surface of the incubator, lacing his fingers in her and resting his forehead to her temple. “She’s going to come home, I know it,” he whispered into her ear, letting his eyes fall closed as he pressed his lips to her skin. The tiny baby stretched slowly and then closed her fingers around Sara’s, holding on with a firm grip.

"Look at that!" Sara cooed, a tear finally skittering a path down her cheek. It felt good to be crying for some other reason other than despair. For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to feel hope again. "Oh, Sophia, you're getting so strong."

Michael watched the reflexive crushing of Sara’s finger that Sophia was doing and he felt his own tears choke him in his throat. He tilted his head and looked down at his baby with awe. She was so small and yet so strong. She had the faintest layering of red hair peeking out from under her woolen bonnet and Michael sighed, feeling happy for the first time in two weeks. “You’re so much like your mommy,” he sobbed, sliding his hand down Sara’s body to rest on her hip and pull her closer.

"Don't cry. . ." Sara turned her head to the side, pressing her lips against Michael's cheek. "Don't cry, baby." She brushed another kiss on his skin. "Do you want to touch her?"

“Tears of joy…” Michael assured her, quickly wiping his cheeks and sniffing a little with a weak laugh. “Yes. I want to touch her,” Michael nodded, moving around her and rubbing his thumb against his forefinger as he slid his hand into the circle when Sara pulled her out. At first, he was unsure and he just rested his huge hand next to Sophia’s tiny body but then she opened her palm and her delicate pink fingers came to rest on his little finger. He inhaled hard and looked at Sara with watery eyes again. “Look,” he smiled, dropping into the chair next to the incubator so he could look at his daughter from a new angle. “Do you think she knows who we are?”

"Oh, yeah. . ." Sara knelt down next to Michael and placed her hand on his knee. She smiled at Sophia, whose eyes fluttered open for just a moment. "Look at how she's touching you. She definitely knows who we are."

Feeling braver, Michael reached out his finger and trailed it down Sophia’s arm. Her skin was cool and she shifted in her position, blinking again. The NICU was always kept dark apart from a few lamps in the corners because of the sensitivity premature babies have to bright lights because of their thin eyelids. It didn’t matter how dark it was, Michael could see Sophia perfectly and she blinked, looking right at his face that was next to the Plexiglas. “She knows,” he agreed with a smile, moving to hover his hand above her tiny shoulders that were lost under his palm.

"Careful. . ." Sara murmured, almost shocked by the size of their baby compared to Michael's large hand. She felt something constrict in her throat and she turned, pressing her head into Michael's lap. She had tried to keep herself somewhat distant, and for the first time since Sophia's birth, she felt the urge to hold her so strong she felt like she couldn't breathe.

Michael smiled down at her and began stroking his fingers through her hair. “It’s okay…” he whispered, resting his hand to Sophia’s body gently and warming her skin with his palm. “…She’s okay,” he said with a smile, tilting his head to the side and sighing with pride. Sophia peeled her eyes open again and looked directly at Michael again. “Hey, baby…” he cooed softly. “…I’m daddy.”

Sara pulled herself away from Michael, not even trying to stop the steady stream of silent tears that stained her face. She moved closer to Sophia and pressed her hand against the glass again. "And I'm mommy, and we love you so, so much."

Sophia blinked slowly again, opening her eyes and looking up to her mother with darkened blue eyes. Michael let out a small laugh. “Listen to her,” he nodded towards Sara and stroked his thumb over Sophia’s shoulder. “Mommy knows all,” he smiled. “And when you’re bigger and stronger we’ll let your big brother Roman come and see you,” he nodded.

"And your Uncle Linc can't wait to meet you either," Sara murmured softly, smiling through the glass at the baby. "You're going to love him so much too."

Michael raised his eyebrows in agreement. “Everyone does,” he smiled. Michael pulled his arm out of the incubator and patted his knee. “Come and see our baby,” he said to Sara, flicking his head sideways to call her to his level. “She wants to hold her mommy’s finger.”

"She does, does she?" Sara smirked slightly and moved up, perching on Michael's knee. She reached into the incubator and brushed her thumb across the back of Sophia's hand. The baby immediately wrapped it's tiny fingers around Sara's finger and clutched on. Sara laughed quietly and continued to rub the back of Sophia's hand. Using her free hand, she wiped hastily at her tears.

Michael wrapped his arms around Sara’s waist and pressed his head into her back, holding her tightly.

  
Sara sat in the chair next to Sophia's Plexiglas case, her hand inside the hole. She stroked her fingers gently down her daughter's chest and smiled when Sophia attempted to stick her whole hand in her mouth. Over the past week Sara had actually been able to sleep at night; Sophia was getting more and more healthy each other. Sara turned to Michael, smiling softly. "I think she looks bigger today."

Michael nodded and watched as the nurse unhooked some of the monitors from Sophia. She didn’t just look bigger, she was bigger and stronger. So much so, her doctors had decided she could come off her ventilator because she was breathing on her own. The only thing left on her body was a tiny tube going into her nose and down to her stomach so they could supplement her feeding easily. Even though she was sucking on her thumb, she had yet to try real food. “She’s got a lot of energy today,” Michael noted as the baby squirmed.

"Yes, she does. . ." Sara cooed in agreement, as Sophia kicked her tiny little legs. She moved her hand to Sophia's arm, grinning when the baby batted at her. "And she's warmer."

“Yeah, the doctor said she was maintaining her body warmth a lot better,” Michael said with a smile. He pressed his hand to Sara’s back and leaned over the incubator, looking down at his daughter whose eyes darted between her parents. She was too small to smile but Michael could see her excitement in her eyes. Today was the first day since she had been born over four weeks ago, that Sophia could be held. She was out of the danger zone and so Michael and Sara didn’t need to wear gowns and masks anymore, and Sophia was being moved to a regular ICU ward until she could go home. Michael laughed a little at the baby’s antics. “Do you think she knows what today is?”

"She's obviously brilliant just like her Daddy," Sara smirked, turning to smile at Michael. She leaned in, pressing her lips to his for just a second. "Lincoln said he was bringing Roman later today."

The NICU doctor walked into the room, smiling at Michael and Sara. She made her way over to Sophia and clicked open the tabs keeping Sophia's plastic cradle shut. "Are you two ready?"

Michael nodded eagerly and inhaled with pride. The doctor arranged Sophia’s feeding tube away from her body so she wouldn’t get it tangled in her arms as they flailed weakly, and she lifted the tot from the space where she was lying. Sophia screwed up her face is detest and tucked her legs up against her body while the doctor moved her through the air. “Daddy first?” the doctor asked quickly, not waiting for an answer as she held the baby to Michael’s chest. Michael held his arms like he had with Roman but Roman was so much bigger when he was born and Sophia was lost against the fabric of her long sleeves.

“Okay, if you just…” the doctor said to Michael firmly, taking his hand and placing it beside Sophia’s naked body to hold her still. Even though she had been growing for four weeks, she was only just bigger than his huge palms, mainly having grown in weight rather than length. “…There you go,” the doctor smiled, tucking Sophia’s feeding tube over Michael’s elbow out of the way.

Michael held her gingerly; scared he was going to hurt her if he held her too tightly. She shook as she moved, unsure of her surroundings for a second but she didn’t cry. Her face pressed into his shirt and she peeled an eye open to look up at him. “Hey, baby…” he whispered, tickling the bottom of her tiny feet in his hand. Sophia opened her mouth to wail but nothing but a squeak came out. “…Oh, I’m bigger out here, huh?” he grinned, looking up at Sara.

Sara watched Michael hold Sophia for just a moment before moving over to stand in front of him. She pressed one hand to Michael's arm and wiped away a stray tear before delicately touching Sophia's tiny body. She smiled, glancing up at Michael before looking back down to their baby. "So Sophia, how do you like it in Daddy's arms?"

Sophia blinked slowly and rolled her tongue in her mouth as she looked over at the new person invading her space. She kicked one of her legs slowly against Michael’s palm and gripped at his shirt, bunching the material up in her tiny, peach coloured hands. One thing Michael had noticed over the last month was the colour of Sophia’s skin had changed from a dark, bloody pink to the creamy glow of her mother’s as she had matured. “Does that mean she likes it?”

"Oh, I think that's definitely a yes. . ." Sara trailed off and brought Sophia's tiny hand to her lips, pressing a small kiss to her skin. She moved her hand up from Michael's arm to his cheek. "How do you like it?"

Michael opened his mouth to speak but nothing but an audible breath came out followed by a smile. “I never thought I’d do this,” he shook his head. “It’s amazing…unbelievable…” he breathed, looking back to Sophia and stroking his thumb over her hand. “My little miracle baby,” he whispered to the tot.

“We want to try some real feeding today, Sara…” the doctor said from behind them. “…I bet you feel like you’re going to explode!” she joked playfully. “It will be good for you, and Sophia.”

"She can breast feed?" Sara looked over to the doctor, slightly surprised. She smiled down at the baby. "I didn't expect her to be able too; she's still so tiny."

The doctor nodded with a broad smile. “She’s grown so well we’d like to try it,” the doctor nodded quickly. “She may be tiny, but believe it or not, she’s almost put on 2lbs. That puts her up there with some small, full term babies,” the doctor said, noting something on a chart.

"You're getting so big! I can't believe it!" Sara cooed down at Sophia. "Mommy is so proud of her baby girl." She glanced up to Michael, smiling. "I get to feed her."

Michael grinned and leaned forward, pressing his lips to Sara’s for a quick kiss. “I’ll let you two get started,” he said, gently shifting Sophia over to Sara like he was handling glass. “I’ll go meet Roman and Linc at the entrance,” he said quickly, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her again. He let his hand fall down Sara’s arm and cupped his palm over the top of Sophia’s head, barely touching the ruddy covering, and pressed his lips to her forehead softly.

Sara cradled Sophia gently and smiled down at her. "It feels so good to hold you, baby girl. Are you hungry? Can Mommy feed you?" She smiled up at Michael. "Hurry back. Don't you want to see her eat for the first time?"

“I’ll see her eating when you guys get started,” Michael smiled, heading for the door and offering the doctor a smile. “I remember this part from when Roman was little. You don’t need me,” he laughed, giving her a soft wink and disappearing from the ward.

Sara sat with the nurse, trying to get Sophia to eat. She had to hold her different because she was so much tinier than Roman had been, and Sophia did not seem to like the idea of having to work to get her own food. It had been nearly a half hour of trying, and Sophia just wouldn't try it. "Hey. . ." Sara tickled Sophia's lip and watched as her mouth made a sucking motion. "There you go, that's it! Wanna try again?"

Michael paused outside the ward with Lincoln and Roman. He handed Roman back to Lincoln with a grunt. “You guys wait here, okay? I’ll go see if Mommy is done feeding the baby,” Michael said, patting Roman’s leg and nodded to Lincoln. He pushed the door open and walked over to Sara slowly, careful not to make any sudden noises to frighten the baby “Hey,” he whispered, looking down at her eating. “Look at her!”

Sara smiled, tracing her hand down Sophia's cheek and shifting a little uncomfortably. "It took her long enough. I was beginning to think she didn't like me." She smirked up at him. "Now she's going at it like she never wants to stop."

Michael rested his weight on the chair arms beside Sara and leaned down with a hum. “Yeah, I know what that’s like,” he smirked, pressing his lips to hers. “Guess who’s here?”

Sara smiled, glancing hopefully at Michael. "Did my little boys come to see my little girl?"

He nodded down at her and shrugged. “Well, the big one brought the little one,” he frowned, looking at the ceiling at his statement. “They’re outside.”

"I want them to come see her. . ." Sophia shifted against Sara, making a slurping noise, and Sara smirked up at Michael. "Think she's had enough to eat?"

“I’d assume so,” he pursed his bottom lip out and looked down at her. She was trying to sleep, her eyelids heavy from the warmth of the milk. “Don’t forget she’s smaller than Ro. She’ll eat less than he did.”

Sara shifted Sophia away from her body, smirking as the baby's tiny lips still moved in a sucking motion. She fixed her shirt and pulled Sophia to her shoulder, rubbing slow circles over her teeny back. "Bring the boys in."

Michael kissed her quickly again and stood up, turning to look to the door. He could see Roman through the glass, jumping in his uncle’s arms and giggling at whatever Lincoln was doing out of sight. He laughed to himself as he made his way to the door, pushing it open and inviting them in. “You have to be quiet, Roman,” Michael said softly, whispering to encourage the boy to copy him. He pressed his fingers to his lips and Roman copied him. “Good boy,” he said, ruffling his hair as Lincoln carried him in.

“Wow, look at you smiling,” Lincoln said to Sara, relinquishing Roman to his father and leaning over her to kiss her on the lips. “Wow…” he said, a little shocked at Sophia’s tiny body huddled against Sara’s chest, barely big enough to cover one breast. “…She’s so tiny,” he breathed, sitting in the chair next to Sara.

"She is, isn't she?" Sara turned her head and pressed a kiss to Sophia's cheek. Sophia made a gurgling sound, then burped softly. Sara giggled. "She's getting bigger and stronger though." Her gaze fell on Roman, who looked much shyer than she'd ever seen him. "Hey, big boy!"

Roman frowned and lowered his head, watching Sara and Lincoln out of the corner of his eye. He pouted and pushed out his bottom lip, fumbling his hands in each other. “Hey?” Michael said to him softly, bouncing him in his arms. “What’s up bud?”

Roman laid his head on Michael's shoulder and pressed his face against his Daddy's neck. "Mommy has a baby."

Michael turned to him with a giggle. “You knew that,” he teased, trying to make him smile. “Remember mommy’s bump?” he said softly, making a hump shape in front of Roman’s belly. “That was Sophia,” he turned them both towards Sara and pointed to the baby.

“I think someone’s jealous,” Lincoln whispered to Sara, reaching out and smoothing a finger across Sophia’s skin timidly.

Sara nodded slowly and looked over to Lincoln. "Do you want to hold her?" She glanced up at Roman. "And then Mommy can hold you! She's missed you, baby."

“Me?” Lincoln said quickly, sitting upright in shock. “I…uh…”

“You won’t hurt her, Linc,” Michael smiled at him. “Hold her…” he said firmly as Sara began to transfer her to her uncle. Lincoln held his arms out clumsily and Sara positioned them for him, resting Sophia to the massive crook of his elbow and hanging her feeding tube over his elbow. Lincoln smiled down at her when she didn’t cry and relaxed a little. Michael walked over to them and let Roman sit across Sara’s knees, squatting down in front of him. “You gonna kiss mommy and tell her how much you love her?”

Roman wrapped his arms around Sara's neck, pressing his face to her chest. "Mommy come home now? Please?" He sniffled and Sara realized he was crying. She rubbed her hand across his back and glanced up to Michael.

“Roman?” Michael said softly, rubbing his hand over his knee. “Why are you crying, huh?” he tilted his head in empathy and noticed how tightly Roman was hugging Sara. “Tell Daddy.”

Roman let out a tiny hiccup against Sara and gripped onto her even tighter. "I want. . . Mommy and Daddy. . ." He hiccupped again, "hoooome."

“Are you sure?” Michael soothed, making Roman look at him. His lips twitched sideways with a nervous smile. “You’re not jealous of Sophia, are you?” Michael glanced up to Sara, knowing that Roman was but wouldn’t admit it. “Mommy and daddy still love Roman. We’re not going anywhere.”

“I not want to live with Uncle Linc!” Roman began to wail harder, making Sophia stir in Lincoln’s arms. He gripped onto Sara’s body harder and buried his face in her neck.

Sara pulled Roman tighter to her and gave Michael a panicked look. "Oh, baby. . ." She pressed her lips to his hair. "You're not going to live with Uncle Linc. Mommy and Daddy are coming home, baby."

“Baby live with Uncle Linc!” Roman cried, pointing to Sophia. “Roman live with mommy and daddy!”

Sara looked to Michael and shook her head. "Sophia and Roman are both going to live with Mommy and Daddy, honey."

“Roman the baby!” he said defiantly. “Roman the big boy! Roman see daddy’s toes!” he sulked incoherently, sniffing and wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

"Roman is Mommy's baby and Mommy's big boy. . ." Sara soothed, rubbing her hand over Roman's back. "Mommy loves you so, so much."

“Roman…Ro, look at Daddy,” Michael said firmly but in a soft voice. The boy turned to him sheepishly, his sobs catching in his throat. Michael took his hand in his and kissing his fingers softly. “No one is making you go away, or live with Uncle Lincoln,” he shook his head slowly. “Mommy and Daddy love you, and Sophia loves you too,” he said, looking over to the baby. “You’re her big brother, remember?”

"I. . . I the big brother," Roman nodded, wiping at his eyes and sniffling pitifully. He reached out for Michael. "I love you."

“Oh, come here buddy,” Michael sighed softly, taking Roman in his arms and letting his slide from Sara’s lap into his. He fell forward and his knees hit the tiled floor, propping himself up. He hugged Roman to his chest and gave Sara a wink over his shoulder, reaching out a hand and taking one of hers with it. “We love you too, Ro.”

Roman sniffled and clung onto Michael, allowing him to hold him as Sara turned back to Lincoln. She pressed a hand to his arm and smiled. "What do you think of her?"

Lincoln smiled and looked back down at the tot in his arms. “She looks like you,” he whispered softly, taking Sophia’s tiny hand in between his thumb and forefinger and rubbing gently. “She’s beautiful,” he grinned. “Well done you two,” he said, looking between them. “Again.”

Sara smirked up at Michael. "We are pretty good at making beautiful babies." She watched as he swayed back and forth with Roman in his arms, then looked back to Linc. "We told her all about you."

“Oh?” he frowned with a mischievous smile. “Good things I hope?” he grinned.

“We told her you weren’t her father,” Michael joked, flashing his brother a smile as he rubbed his hand up and down Roman’s back.

Sara smiled at Michael, then looked back to Lincoln. "We did promise her you were going to spoil her though. So you'd better not disappoint."

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it!” Lincoln smiled, stroking the side of Sophia’s face lovingly. “I’ll have to move…” he raised his eyebrows at her when she peeled an eye open. “Or you can have cousin LJ’s room when he moves out,” he laughed, leaning closer to her little face and pressing his lips to her cheek. “I’ll paint it pink for you.”

Roman lifted his head and sniffled, looking down at his Uncle Linc. Did everyone like the new baby better? "You no paint Roman's room."

Lincoln snapped his head up to a panic stricken Roman and shook his head slowly. “Relax, buddy. No one is going to paint your room,” he smiled.

Roman sniffled and nodded, looking to Michael. He pressed his hand to Michael's cheek. "Daddy no give the baby Roman's room."

Michael shook his head. “Nope,” he smiled cheerily. “You saw mommy and daddy painting Sophia’s nursery, remember?”

Roman sniffled and rubbed his cheeks. "Roman sleep in Mommy and Daddy's bed when they come home."

Michael looked up to Sara and stumbled over his words. “Um…” he started, begging her for help with his eyes. He knew if Roman started sleeping in their bed, he probably wouldn’t stop. And that would be a problem.

Roman pressed his face against Michael's shirt and hiccupped. "Please, Daddy?"

“But…” Michael began, shifting Roman around on his lap. “…Big boys sleep in big boy beds, right mommy?”

Sara gave Michael a look. "Maybe you can sleep with Mommy and Daddy just for one night, baby." She glanced to Lincoln, hearing Sophia fuss. She moved in his arms, and Sara leaned back to Lincoln, ready to take her back.

"No." Roman pressed a hand to Sara's knee. "Mommy hold me!"

“Hey, Roman?” Lincoln called him as he handed Sophia back to Sara. He took Roman’s hand from her knee and pulled him towards him slowly. Roman plodded to his uncle, keeping a careful eye on the helpless baby in Sara’s arms. Lincoln lifted him into his lap with a grunt and turned him around, resting his head on his shoulder. “You know Uncle Linc is a big brother, right?” he said and Roman turned to look at him as if to ask how. “I’m daddy’s big brother,” he said proudly.

Roman giggled a little before he could stop himself. "Daddy not a baby!"

Lincoln laughed with him, glad that he was smiling. “He used to be! Right, daddy?” Lincoln caught Michael’s attention and nodded to him.

Michael nodded. “That’s right, Roman. Uncle Linc is my big brother.” Roman looked between them quickly.

“I the big brother,” he pressed his hand to his chest and the words left his mouth excitedly.

"You are, baby!" Sara grinned and leaned forward a little. "How about you come here and say hi to your baby sister, okay? Sophia is very excited to meet you."

Roman hopped off of Lincoln’s lap and moved to rest against Sara’s knees. He bunched his hands together up against his chest and leaned against them, looking at Sophia in Sara’s arms. “Hello,” he said to the baby and then went quiet, waiting for her answer. He frowned and looked up at Sara. “Why the baby not talk?”

Sara smiled softly. "She's too little, baby. She doesn't know how yet." She leaned over and pressed a kiss to Roman's cheek. "You have to help Mommy and Daddy teach her, okay?"

“Okay,” Roman sang, grinning up at his mom. “I Roman,” he said to the baby, poking himself in the chest. “I the big brother,” he said. Michael stifled a laugh behind him and Lincoln joined him.

 


	57. Chapter 57

“Roman…get down!” Lincoln scolded his giggling nephew lightly, taking a few heavy steps towards him and plucking his body from the couch. Lincoln put him on the floor and he scurried off making Indian noises, galloping into the back yard and pretending he was riding a horse. Lincoln smoothed his hands over the couch, pushing out the wrinkles in the material left by Roman and stood to survey his work. For a guy who lived on his own, he sure knew how to tidy a house.

“I hope Lincoln didn’t give Roman any pop,” Michael laughed lightly, turning into their street and shooting a glance into the rear view mirror at his tiny, sleeping daughter. Sophia was wrapped in a pink outfit, snuggled in her car seat that looked like it was eating her tiny frame with cushiony teeth.

"He knows better than that," Sara cooed softly, keeping her eyes trained on Sophia. She had insisted on sitting in the backseat with their daughter on the way home. Gently, she ran her finger down the sleeping baby's cheek. "Although who knows, he might think it's payback for how long we've made him stay at our house with Ro. He's probably ecstatic to get back home."

Michael flicked his eyes to meet Sara’s in the mirror and smiled as he returned his eyes back to the road. “I don’t know, Sara…” he shrugged, slowly pressing the brakes and letting the truck bump up the curb and then accelerating up their driveway. He stopped abruptly, forgetting Lincoln’s Mustang had been living in his driveway for enough time to think it lived there. Michael pointed out of the windshield and leaned forward. “…I think…” he began, laughing to himself. “…I think Lincoln’s moving in,” he giggled, waving at his brother who was arranging some tools in the open doorway of the garage.

Sara laughed quietly. "Please, he'd get sick of us in two days or less." Sophia wiggled in her car seat, fluttering her eyes open and letting out a tiny groan. Sara smirked and leaned over, unfastening the tiny straps. "Ohh, I'm sorry. He wouldn't get sick of you, baby girl. You're much too sweet."

Michael pushed open his door and walked up the driveway to meet his brother. “You stealing my tools?” Michael teased, squinting in the sunlight. He held his hand over his face and Lincoln laughed and wiped his hands down on a clean rag.

“No, just tidying up for you guys,” Lincoln said, looking past Michael and offering Sara a smile as she lifted Sophia out of the car. “Wow, I bet you’re glad this day finally came, huh?”

Michael let out a long held breath and nodded. “Like you wouldn’t believe,” he grinned, pushing his hands into his pockets. He looked around the garage, his mind twitching a few times when he noticed Lincoln had moved a few things. It wasn’t a problem, he could move them back later. His eyes fell on a huge hutch like structure in the corner and he tentatively stepped towards it, shooting his brother a frown. “Linc…what’s that?”

Lincoln walked over to his brother and shrugged. “It’s a ferret. It’s Roman’s ferret. Elmo,” he smiled. At his name, the foot long creature bounded out of the sleeping quarters, his cat collar bell jingling on his neck and pressed his pink paws to the wire mesh, looking up at Lincoln.

“Well, I can see that…” Michael shook his head in disbelief. “…Why is it in my garage?”

“Ro was lonely. And I didn’t think you guys would want a dog…so, I got him the next best, smaller, alternative,” Lincoln smiled, wiggling his finger through the mesh at Elmo.

“Lincoln,” Michael scolded gently as Sara walked into the garage. “I’ve seen smaller dogs!” Michael stepped back and pointing to the ferret, stepping sideways so Sara could see. “Lincoln got Roman a ferret!” he laughed sarcastically.

"Linc got Roman a. . ." Sara stared into the hutch then took a step back, cradling Sophia against her chest. "But that's. . . they... we. . ." She glanced to Lincoln, and Sophia let out a tiny wail against her chest. Moving towards the door, she glanced back at Michael. "Take care of this before you come inside."

Michael petted Sara on the shoulder as she walked past him and then crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at Lincoln. “You’re in big trouble,” he said quickly, rocking on his feet.

“Me? In trouble?” Lincoln objected, standing quickly and turning to Michael.

“Sara is not a pet person…” Michael shook his head. “…And you went and got your nephew a pet,” Michael said pointing at him harshly. “Thus. You are in trouble.”

“Oh come on…” Lincoln whined, motioning his hand to the fluffy ferret as he ambled around his hutch, shaking a little and then trying to chase the bell on his collar. “…You feed him in the morning, he runs about the lounge with Roman at night before bed…”

“Ha!” Michael let out a loud laugh, stopping Lincoln’s words. “Don’t tell Sara that!” he warned, taking a step away from his brother towards the house. “Get rid of it, Linc. Before Sara gets rid of you.”

“What I am supposed to do with him?” Lincoln looked down at the bumbling ferret, still chasing his collar before a jingling cat ball beside him distracted him and he pounced on it.

Michael shrugged. “Take him to yours. I don’t care.”

“And Roman? What will you tell him?” Lincoln said smugly, folding his arm and puffing air into his chest. Michael shrugged again and smirked.

“Nothing. You can tell him,” Michael smiled, walking through the garage door into the house.

Sara sat on the couch with Sophia lying in front of her. She had decided to wait to give the baby a tour of the house until Michael came inside. Roman stood on the couch behind her, his arms wrapped around her neck, leaning over her shoulders to look at Sophia. "So tiny, Mommy."

“That’s right, Ro,” Michael joined their conversation quickly and smiled down at his son. He sat down on the couch next to Sara’s body, opening his arms for Roman and letting him hug him. “Sophia is super special because she is tiny,” he grinned, smoothing Roman’s hair from his forehead and kissing him on the temple.

"I the big boy," Roman announced, wrapping his arms and Michael and settling himself down his daddy's lap.

"That's right, baby," Sara told him and smiled as Sophia squirmed on the couch and opened her mouth, emitting tiny noises. She picked Sophia up, resting her against her chest. "Do you want to give Sophia a kiss?"

Roman shook his head firmly and pouted out his lips. “Nope,” he announced playfully, wiggling from his daddy’s lap and picking up one of his toys. “I wanna play cowboy!” he yelled and skipped off back into the yard, patting his thigh as he ran outside.

Michael raised his eyebrows as he ran away and turned to Sara with a sideways smile. “He’ll come around,” he assured her, leaning over Sophia and rubbing her belly softly. “I promise.”

Sara made a face and turned to Michael. "I hope so." She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sophia's cheek. "I don't think he likes her yet."

“He will…” Michael nodded. “He will.” Michael watched as Sophia wiggled on the couch, kicking out her legs and making little puffs of air leave her lungs. “You know…” Michael said with a sigh. “…I still can’t believe she is home.”

Sara smiled and picked Sophia up, kissing her on the cheek. She cradled her to her chest and smiled when Sophia sighed and fluttered her eyes shut. "I'm not sure I've ever been happier."

Michael sat and smiled at the way his daughter was nestled into Sara’s bosom. “I love you,” he smiled, reaching out and gently tugging on the tips of Sara’s hair as it spilled from her shoulders. It was soft and warm between his fingers and he grinned wider, letting his hand fall to the baby’s head. “Both of you.”

Sara smiled as Sophia shifted in her arms at the sound of her father's voice. "And we love you too. So much."

Michael started laughing and shook his head again. “Lincoln got Roman a damn pet,” he blinked again, running his hand over his head. “A damn pet!” he laughed harder, leaning backwards on the couch and covering his eyes with his hand as he began to cry with laughter.

Sara rolled her eyes and held Sophia closer to her. "I don't know what he was thinking. You took care of it, right? It's gonna be gone." Sophia began to squirm and Sara glanced down at her. "She needs to eat."

Michael wiped his eyes and let out a long breath. “Yeah it’s taken care of,” Michael smiled with a nod. “Linc is taking it to his place or something,” he shrugged, rolling his head sideways on the couch cushions and looking at her. “You want to feed her here? Or upstairs? I’ll tell Lincoln to stay out of the house if you want?” he thumbed towards the garage and grinned.

"Good. Ro can visit it at his house then. . ." Sara smirked and ran her finger over Sophia's chin. She giggled as Sophia's mouth made a small sucking motion. "Is my baby hungry?" She glanced to Michael. "Where do you want me to feed her?"

Michael smirked and licked his lips slowly. “Do you think I would object to you feeding our daughter anywhere?” He whispered, leaning over and kissing her slowly. Sophia groaned between them in protest to her hunger and Michael smiled down at her. “Okay, mommy’s going to feed you right now,” he said softly, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I’ll go check on Ro.”

"Are you a hungry little girl?" Sara cooed to the baby. She brushed her lips across Sophia's forehead as she positioned her to where she could eat. "You're so tiny! How can you eat so much?"

Michael bounded through the kitchen of their home and to the back door that was open and letting the sunlight of the afternoon sunshine spill onto the tiled floor. Michael squinted in the light and focused on Roman playing in the sandbox in the center of their yard. Stepping out onto the decking, he rested his hands over the railings and watched him play. The boy was kicking around in the sand, conversing with himself and it made Michael smile with pride. He may not have had the best childhood of anyone he knew, but he’d be damned if his son would have anything less than the best. “Who you chasing now deputy?” Michael called out softly, catching Roman’s attention.

"Daddy!" Roman stood and giggled. "I not a deputy! I a cowwwwbooooy!" He extended the word and giggled, holding his finger out at Michael like it was a gun. "And you the bad guy!"

Michael stepped sideways and around the railings, down two steps onto their lawn and towards Roman. “The bad guy, huh?” he joked with a grin, hooking his finger into the waist of his jeans and clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth. He flicked the air in front of his forehead, pretending to adjust his hat in the sun. “Do I get a horse?” he asked Roman in a western accent.

"Nooo, Daddy!" Roman galloped around like he was riding a horse and giggled. "You talk silly." He pointed his gun-finger again. "I'm gonna 'rrest you."

“Well, yeehaw!” Michael screeched, taking off around the yard. “You gotta catch me first, cowboy!”

"I'll get you!" Roman giggled as he chased Michael around the yard. He wasn't quite fast enough to catch his dad and he ran faster. He tripped over his own feet and tumbled down to the grass. "Ow."

Michael slowed down as he ran, turning to see Roman had fallen behind him. He ran back to his son and knelt down beside him, lifting him to his feet. “You okay, buddy?” he soothed, brushing the grass from his pants and his elbows. Michael checked the skin there and nothing was scrapped so he just rubbed at the patch gently. “Let’s see your knees,” he said, rolling up Roman’s pant legs and seeing the skin grazed and cut. “You cut your knee, cowboy!” Michael said lightly, pushing himself to his feet and lifting Roman into his arms. “Let’s go get you a band aid.”

Roman wrapped his arms around Michael's neck and rested his forehead to his daddy's cheek. "I got you! Haha."

Michael pressed his hand to the back of Roman’s head and held him to him. “Yes you did!” he smiled, turning his face and kissing his son quickly. He walked into the kitchen and sat him on top of the counter, reaching over and putting a piece of kitchen towel from the spool and wetting it under the tap. He folded it up and pressed it to Roman’s knee. “Hold this for me,” he put Roman’s hand over the wet square and moved to the side to get him a band aid from the draw Sara kept full of supplies. Michael held up the two boxes. “You want puppies or spacemen?”

"Spacemen!!" Roman giggled and nodded, smiling at his dad. "They fight aliums."

Michael let a chuckle escape his lips. Roman had grasped most of the English language by now but the odd mistake slipped in every now and again. ‘Alium’ was a new one and it made Michael laugh. “Yes they do,” he nodded with a grin, taking the wet paper from his knee and inspecting the wound. “Hmm…” he frowned, bending down and inspecting the knee as he dabbed it dry. “…I’m not mommy…” he said, peeling the band aid and sticking it over his cut. “…But it looks fine,” he grinned, rolling his pant leg back down and pulling him from the counter and setting him back on the floor.

Roman held up his hands to Michael and shook his head. "Hold me like the baby."

“But you’re not a baby,” Michael smiled down at the boy, ruffling his hair as he gripped to his pant leg. “You’re a big boy now. The big brother, remember?”

"No." Roman shook his head defiantly. "I Daddy's baby."

Michael knelt down in front of Roman and held his eye contact. “You’ll always be my baby,” Michael said to him softly. “But Sophia is too. You’re both Daddy's babies,” he smiled, trailing a finger down the side of Roman’s cherub like cheeks. “Are you maybe a little jealous of your sister?” Michael asked Roman slowly and the boy hung his head and fiddled with his fingers. “It’s okay if you are.”

"I no. . ." Roman paused, testing out the word. "I no jealous." He moved closer to Michael, looking at the kitchen floor. "I Daddy's favorite?"

“Oh, Roman,” Michael pulled him into a hug and stroked the back of his head with a sigh. “You know I can’t have favourites now there is two of you,” he said a little sadly. “That would be unfair,” he said, pulling back and looking at Roman. “You’d be upset if I said Sophia was my favourite, right?”

Roman scrunched his face and his lower lip began to quiver. "Sophia's Daddy's favorite?"

“No,” Michael shook his head and smiled sweetly. “But if I said she was you’d be upset. And Sophia would be upset if I told her Roman was daddy’s favourite,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “So mommy and daddy can’t have favourites. We love you both the same,” he nodded and Roman looked thoroughly confused and screwed his face up more. Michael rolled his eyes and pointed to the garage. “Uncle Linc can have favourites. Why don’t you go talk to him and…Elmo,” he shrugged. He couldn’t believe he had just addressed the creature by its name.

"I'm Elmo's favorite!" Roman squealed, moving towards the garage. His voice carried back towards the house as he ran through the door. "Uncle Linc, Uncle Linc! Am I your favorite?!"

Michael chuckled to himself and walked back through the house into the lounge. Sophia was contently sleeping in Sara’s arms and he smiled at the scene. “How’s my pretty lady?” he whispered, walking behind the couch and leaning over the back on one elbow while he trailed a warm finger down Sophia’s cheek.

"That depends on which of us you're talking about. . ." Sara teased. "If you mean this little one here, she's got a full belly and is very, very happy."

“That’s great,” Michael whispered, watching Sophia inhale and sigh with a squeak. “But I did mean you,” he breathed against her ear, nuzzling the side of Sara’s neck and tracing his hand down the other side, tickling at the skin behind her ear.

Sara laughed quietly and turned to meet Michael's lips with her. "I'm very, very happy too. And very, very exhausted. What's Roman up to?"

“Asking Uncle Linc if he is his favourite because I explained to him that mommy and daddy couldn’t have favourites now,” he smiled, pressing his lips to hers again. “I had to patch him up. He scraped his knee in the yard,” Michael rolled his eyes and dropped them back to Sophia who was snoring softly.

"Is he okay?" Sara sat up a little further, concern crossing her face. "How'd he fall?" She pressed a kiss to Sophia's head. "I don't want him to be jealous of her."

“Tripped,” Michael said simply, shaking his head and brushing some strands of hair from Sara’s face. “He’s fine. He’s not jealous. He just…he doesn’t really understand why he isn’t the center of attention anymore. He’ll be fine, just give him time,” Michael smiled reassuringly.

Sara leaned her head back against the couch and smiled. "Well. . . how about we put this little girl in her fancy crib and you ask Ro if he wants to take a nap with Mommy? I've missed cuddling him."

“I’ll do it,” Michael smiled, pushing himself up and walking around the front of the couch. “I haven’t held her today,” he smiled, opening up his arms ready for the baby. “Ro is in the garage with Linc,” he said, smirking at her. “And Elmo.”

Sara shifted the baby into Michael's arms, smiling when she groaned at the sudden shift in positioning. "I know, I know. Mommy and Daddy play pass the baby girl a lot."

Michael cuddled Sophia to his chest and smiled down at her figure. Her face was scrunched up and her eyes were closed. She was clearly tired and needed to sleep in her crib. “You’ll get used to it,” Michael whispered to her, lifting her a little and pressing his lips to her nose. He gave Sara one last smile before he walked past her and tiptoed up the stairs slowly, careful to avoid the creaking boards as he padded to the nursery.

Sara watched Michael go up the stairs and then walked out into the garage where Lincoln and Roman were staring into the hutch. She made a face. "Hey, big boy."

“Hey,” Lincoln grinned, standing up and wiggling his eyebrows at her. Roman was engrossed by his pet, leaning over the top of the run area where Lincoln had lifted the lid and wiggling his fingers over Elmo’s pick nose. The pink eyed ferret tried to grab Roman’s fingers with his clumsy paws like a cat but kept falling down and Roman giggled. “Oh, you meant him,” Lincoln said with a smile, pointing to Roman when Sara gave him a look.

“Mommy! Look at Elmo!” Roman said, lifting the pet out of the run and holding him out to her between his hands that only just went around the pet’s body. Lincoln quickly darted forward and supported the ferret’s butt as Roman waved him towards his mother with a grin. “He’s not wed like Elmo though,” he pouted. “But Uncle Linc got him a wed collar.”

"Roman!" Sara pressed a hand to her forehead. "Put that. . . put that thing down." She sent a glare to Linc. "You are. . ."

“…Really sorry,” Lincoln said quickly, prising Roman’s hand open and putting the ferret back down in his run. He closed the lid and locked it up. “I’ll take him home today, I promise.”

"Good." Sara told him evenly, rolling her eyes. She turned back to Roman. "Want to come take a nap with Mommy?"

“But…” Roman began, stretching his face into a yawn and the mention of sleeping. “I not tired.” Lincoln let out a laugh and ruffled Roman’s hair the same way his dad did. Lincoln remembered his father used to ruffle his hair when he was younger and he wondered if it was a genetic thing.

Sara crouched down so she was on eye level with Roman and stuck out her bottom lip like she was sad. "You don't want to nap with Mommy? But she missed you sooo much."

“Okay, mommy,” Roman smiled, launching his body into hers and wrapping his arms around her neck. “I tired really,” he giggled, flattening his palms to her cheeks and pulling her face forward for a kiss. “I not want to nap with Uncle Linc anymore,” he shook his head defiantly and Lincoln frowned. Roman leaned forward and whispered in Sara’s ear. “He sounds like a train!”

Sara laughed loudly and glanced up to Lincoln, pulling Roman tight against her body. She pressed her face into his little shoulder and laughed again as her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, baby, I love you so, so much."

“Mommy?” Roman asked confused, pulling out of her embrace and wiping his hand roughly over her cheeks. “Why you cry?” he frowned and his brow pulled together in the infamous Scofield stare. It could not be denied. Roman Michael Scofield was the spitting image of his father and the most handsome boy in the world. “I love you.”

"I'm just happy to be back home with you, Roman," Sara smiled and cupped his face in her hands, placing a quick kiss to his lips. "Daddy missed you too."

Roman kissed Sara again and smiled, pressing his face into her shoulder and yawning again. “We nap now,” he sighed, draping his arms over Sara’s shoulders and letting his weight fall into hers.

Sara stood up, taking Roman with her. He snuggled his body into hers and she smiled over his shoulder at Linc. "Michael's in the nursery if you want to go see him."

Lincoln nodded to her and crept into the house after her. He immediately made his way into the kitchen and washed his hands, clearing them of the musky ferret odor and then drying them on the towel near the sink. He crept through the lounge and up the stairs, tapping gently on the nursery before walking in to see Michael standing over Sophia. “You watching her sleep?”

“Yes,” Michael said softly with a smile. “You learn to appreciate the little things once you’re faced with losing your child.”

Lincoln smiled and nodded slowly, walking to stand next to Michael. He looked down at his niece and laughed quietly, "God, Michael. She's gorgeous. . ." He trailed off. "Look at that hair and her little nose. She's going to look just like Sara."

Michael let out a soft laugh and Sophia’s mouth twitched up into a tiny smile of her own. “You think?” he said sarcastically. “She’s the perfect tiny replica.”

"Good," Lincoln murmured, reaching into the crib and touching her hand. "One mini-Michael is enough."

“What are you saying?” Michael narrowed his eyes at Lincoln and a smirk played across his lips.

Lincoln laughed quietly and shrugged. He pressed his arm to Michael's shoulder. "You look happy."

“Can you blame me?” Michael said to him softly, keeping his voice hushed. “I have everything I ever wanted. It’s taken me nearly a decade to get it, but it was all worth it,” he smiled and looked back down to Sophia. He reached out, unable to take his hands from her for even a second and gently stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. “I have a wife. I have two, beautiful, healthy kids and a big brother who is there for whenever I need him,” he whispered. “I just wish he was as happy as me.”

Lincoln took his hand off Michael and sighed, "There you go, getting all mushy on me." He shook his head. "You don't think I'm happy?"

Michael shrugged a little, not looking up at his brother. “Sometimes I think you’d be happier where I am,” he admitted. “With a wife, maybe not more kids. I mean LJ’s what now? Twenty-two? Could you imagine his disgust,” Michael laughed out loud.

Lincoln made a face and glanced down to the ground. "A wife? Come on, you know that's not my thing. And I don't need more kids. Especially not when I have the best niece and nephew anyone could ever imagine."

Michael looked up to him, letting Sophia grip onto the tip of his finger in her sleep. “You’re seriously happy? Being single? Alone?” Michael said slowly, emphasizing the last word.

"Michael. . ." Lincoln sighed and glanced over to look at him. "Why are you doing this?"

Michael sighed. “Are you sure you bought Elmo because Roman was lonely?” he smirked. “Or did you know we’d make you get rid of him and you could take him home?” He looked over to his brother and laughed at himself. “Elmo…” he shook his head at the ridiculous name. “…Good luck explaining that one at the vets with your only child well out of his teens.”

"I bought Elmo because I can't tell Roman no. He's my little buddy. . ." He leaned back against the wall and sighed. "I had fun watching him."

“You realise you just called a three year old child your buddy, right?” Michael teased, walking away from the crib and slapping Lincoln’s shoulder playfully.

Lincoln made a face, "Be nice, or I'll take him home and never return him to you." He hesitated, looking away again. "Sometimes I wish. . . she was still here."

Michael knew Lincoln wasn’t one to open up about his feelings. He had never been and he had been increasingly closed off since Veronica had died. The fact Lincoln heard the exact moment she was shot probably didn’t help his mental state and made him close off more, so Michael simply gave him a smile of reassuring love and squeezed his shoulder gently. “Me too, Linc,” Michael said slowly. “But you know what?” he said, taking Lincoln's hand and placing it over the slow beating of his heart. Lincoln looked down at his chest and his own hand pressed to his heart. “She’ll always be in here,” Michael whispered.

"That's what people say. . ." Lincoln took a step away from Michael, and shook his head. "But what's that really do, Michael? She's gone."

Michael sighed on a breath again and pulled the nursery door closed even more. “I’m sorry, Linc,” Michael said softly, watching his brother pause in his tracks. “I just…I don’t know what to say. You know if she was here she’d probably punch us both for mourning her for so long, right?” Michael laughed weakly.

"She'd be pissed," Lincoln agreed. He walked back to the crib and smiled down at Sophia. "She'd be so proud of you, man. She'd love Sara."

“She always said I’d find someone special,” Michael whispered, leaning back over the crib next to his brother and watching Sophia sleep. “Of course…I was like fourteen at the time and I thought girls were gross,” Michael grinned.

"Girls are gross," Lincoln muttered. Sophia squirmed and he laughed. "Except for you, baby girl!"

Michael reached down and ran a finger down Sophia’s cheek and her mouth twitched into a sideways smile. “You listen to your uncle Linc,” Michael breathed. “He’ll be good to you.”

"Because I love you. . ." Lincoln told her softly. He turned to Michael, slapping his back playfully. "Besides, I can't settle down. I got to wait for Sara to get sick of you and realize I'm the one for her."

Michael raised his brow at Lincoln and smirked, snorting a stifled laugh through his nose. “Are you done dreaming yet?”

"Ha," Lincoln turned to him and rolled her eyes. "Someday you'll see. You'll wake up and your wife will want me and these two kids will be calling me Daddy and you Uncle Mike."

Michael glared at him but couldn’t hide his smirk. “No really. Do I have to pinch you awake, Lincoln?”

Lincoln rolled his eyes. "When you stop denying the truth, little buddy, we'll be much better off."

Michael let a small laugh but it was interrupted by Sophia’s whines as she stirred in the crib. Michael bent over the crib and supported the back of her head and he lifted her body effortlessly from the softness of the sheets and held her against his chest. He bobbed her up and down with a tired expression, remembering all the sleepless nights they had with Roman. “You’d want this?” Michael whispered to Lincoln as Sophia wailed louder in his ear. It never ceased to amaze Michael just how loud something so tiny could scream.

Lincoln smirked, ducking his head. "If that's what it takes to get to sleep with Sara Tancredi."

“Scofield,” Michael corrected him, patting Sophia’s back softly while he buried her face into his neck and gripped to his shirt. “Not Burrows.”

Lincoln rolled his eyes and moved over to Michael, holding out his hands. "Give me the kid." He reached out, and Michael put Sophia in his arms. He cradled the tiny baby to his large chest and smirked at Michael when her sobs dwindled. "Well, look at that."

“I think she’s hungry again,” Michael said softly. The hospital said it may be difficult to get her to eat on a regular schedule for a while, so they had to feed her when she desired. He moved away from his brother towards the door. As much as he hated waking Sara, especially when she was so tired, he wasn't equipped for feeding the baby. He paused, turning back to Lincoln with a smile. “That doesn’t mean she’s yours,” he grinned.

Lincoln arched his eyebrow and pressing his lips to Sophia's red hair. "Are you ready for your mommy again?" He smiled at Michael. "Do I get to watch Sara feed her?"

Michael quirked his eyebrow. “Did I let you see Sara feed Roman when he was a baby?” he smirked, knowing full well he didn’t.

Lincoln winked. "Not that you know about." He turned Sophia around in his arms. "Do you like Mommy's boobies? I sure do!"

Michael coughed out a laugh and waggled his finger at his brother. “If I didn’t know I was the one exclusively sleeping with Sara, I’d kick your ass,” he laughed, exiting the nursery and padding down the hall towards the stairs. He leaned over the rail half way down when he saw Sara sitting up and watching Roman nap. “Hey…” he called softly. “Sophia is hungry again,” he whispered when she looked up at him.

Sara turned around and nodded at him before standing up. Placing a soft kiss on Roman's head, she made her way slowly upstairs, and smiled when she saw Lincoln cradling Sophia. "Hey you, little one. How can you have such a huge appetite? You're so tiny!"

“Michael said I couldn’t watch,” Lincoln smirked at her, handing her Sophia. “He doesn’t understand our love,” he feigned dramatically.

Sara smirked and moved over to the rocking chair, sitting down slowly. "But you see my breasts all the time when we have sex, Linc."

“I can hear you two,” Michael said a little louder than he should have from outside the nursery. “And you’re not funny,” he smirked, walking into the pink and yellow room and grabbing Lincoln by the elbow. “Out. Now.”

“What?” he protested weakly. “Sara?” he turned to her as Michael pushed him out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Sara unbuttoned her shirt with one hand and shifted Sophia, trying to get her to eat. The baby responded stubbornly. Sara looked up at Michael, "You know you're the only one who sees my boobs."

“I know,” he chuckled, walking over to her and kneeling down beside the rocking chair. He tickled at Sophia’s cheek and the Baby opened her mouth a little wider, finally closing her thin, rosy lips around Sara’s nipple and gulping hungrily. “There we go, baby,” he smiled at his daughter as she closed her eyes and closed her fist and laid it against Sara’s skin. Michael shifted his legs out from under him and rested on the floor, laying his head to the arm of the chair and watching Sophia eat slowly. “That’s a great sound,” he whispered, commenting on the gulping and sucking she was doing. “It’s comforting to hear, you know?”

Sara smiled and nodded her agreement, "Oh, I definitely know." She ran her hand down Sophia's cheek and smiled wider when Sophia splayed her tiny fingers out across her breast. "I didn't think I'd ever get to do this."

“But you are,” Michael smiled, tracing the outline of Sophia’s hair with his long fingers and fluffing the softness across her head. “And she is growing stronger every day.”

Sara felt her eyes fill with tears again and nodded slowly, smiling over at Michael. She sniffled, "She is getting to be strong, and the doctors say it's good she wants to eat so much." She bit her bottom lip. "I love her so much, Michael."

Michael looked up at Sara sweetly and gave her a nod. “I know. I love her too,” he smiled, looking back to Sophia. “She has no idea just how much we love her.”

Sara tilted her head back in the rocking chair, rocking slowly as she nursed Sophia. She smiled at Michael. "Kind of like how you'll never know how much I love you?"

Michael smirked up at her and moved his hand to smooth along Sara’s arm. “Kind of,” he agreed sweetly. “Except I can say it back. I love you, Sara.”


	58. Chapter 58

“Hey…hey…hey…” Michael whispered soothingly as he crept into his daughter’s nursery at four am. The tot was wailing and Michael had managed to turn off the monitor quickly enough so Sara did not stir. Michael hadn’t been asleep anyway, anticipating the restless night his tiny baby would inevitably have. He walked over to the crib and set the bottle he had heated down next to it. He leant over the edge and lifted Sophia out of her bed and into the warmth of his arms, letting her cry into the indigo lines of his bare chest. “Shh…shh…” Michael bounced her up and down a few times before he padded over to the rocking chair and lowered himself into it slowly, repositioning her to lie against the length of his arm and offering her the heated breast milk. The tot gulped eagerly for her size and when her sobs dissipated into the night, Michael relaxed against the back of the chair and let his eyes fall closed.

Sara rolled over in bed and reached out for Michael, but found he wasn't there. Sighing she pulled herself up and out of bed, walking slowly towards the nursery. Michael was sitting in the rocking chair, his eyes closed and Sophia was twisting in his arm, her tiny mouth sucking on the empty bottle. Sara laughed as she took the baby gently from her father's arms. "Look at that! You can't still be hungry, can you?"

Michael’s arm went limp against his body when Sara took their daughter and he stirred a little, inhaling deeply with a grunt and smacking his lips together in his sleep. As he stirred, his arm came up against his chest again, grasping to the body of his baby that had since been removed as if she was still there but the empty bottle fell from his hand and tumbled to the floor by his bare feet.

Sara drew Sophia to her chest and rubbed her hand slowly over her back, waiting for the baby to burp. "Did you rock Daddy to sleep? That was very sweet of you." She placed a kiss to Sophia's temple then moved back to Michael, brushing her lips against his ear. "The bed might be more comfortable, baby." She glanced back at Sophia, who was falling back asleep, "Mmm, did your big snack wear you out? How about we change that diaper, then let you lie back down?"

Michael jolted awake and his whole body leapt in the chair. His eyes quickly scanned the room. “Sophia…?” he called out in his delirious state, his eyes going wide with panic before he saw Sara changing the baby’s diaper in the corner of the nursery. He relaxed back into the wooden framed chair and sighed, rubbing his hand down his face with a yawn. “You’re supposed to be asleep,” he muttered softly into his palm.

Sara smiled and pulled Sophia up, kissing the baby's head. She placed her in the crib and turned back to Michael. "You should have woken me up."

“You haven’t had much sleep since she as born,” he noted honestly, letting his eyes fall closed again and yawning. “You worry about her all the time. I know you do,” he lifted his hand and pointed to where he heard her voice resonate from.

Sara ran her hand over Sophia's forehead, and turned to Michael, shrugging a little. "She's so tiny. She's getting bigger though. It's hard not to worry about her."

“I know…” he nodded slowly, shifting his legs and dragging his feet across the carpet until he was ready to stand. “…we nearly lost her. It’s only right we should worry,” he whispered, pushing himself to his feet and walking towards the crib. He pressed his body into the back of Sara’s and looked down at his sleeping daughter over Sara’s shoulder. “But you said it yourself. She is getting stronger and is growing normally so we shouldn’t worry…as much…” he smiled, tucking his chin into the hollow of her neck and resting his head against hers.

Sara leaned back into Michael and ran her finger down Sophia's cheek, watching as the corner of her mouth turned up into a smile. "She's so beautiful. . ."

Michael smiled at the reaction his daughter had to her mother’s touch. “She’s like her mother…” Michael breathed, turning his head and kissing Sara’s temple. “…of course she is beautiful.”

Sara turned around in Michael's embrace, sighing and resting her head to his chest. "Have you had enough babies now, Scofield?"

“Have you?” Michael whispered, wrapping his bare arms around her body and holding her closer to him. “I’d give you more if I thought you wanted more, you know that,” he said slowly, letting his hands fall through her ruddy locks and stroke the back of her neck.

"I think two is good. . ." Sara trailed off shrugging. "Unless you really want more?" She smiled softly. "I'm happy with our boy and girl."

“Me too,” Michael agreed with a nod. “But I’m not going to get…snipped or any of that,” he frowned a little as he thought about it. “Doctor or not…you cannot persuade me to do that,” he laughed a little, smoothing his hand down her arm and taking her hand in his. He yawned again as he walked them from the room, slowly pulling the door half closed behind them and padding in darkness back to their bedroom.

"Snipped?" Sara arched an eyebrow, following him back into the room. She dropped down onto their bed. "Come on, it's not that bad. Be a man. Just think. . . all that sex without having to worry about protection."

“Not that bad?” Michael arched his brow and pulled back the covers to get back into his cooled side of the bed. “I’ve seen it on TV. They do it while you’re awake!” he frowned again, shaking his head and shivering at the thought. “I’m sorry,” he shook his head and pulled the comforter up to his waist, shifting uncomfortably. “I’ll take my chances,” he smiled at her.

"Michael. . ." Sara trailed off, sitting up and looking at him. "I can't believe you won't even consider this. It's not that bad, they numb the area. Then there's no taking chances."

“Sara…” Michael sighed, running his hands over his head and pulling them down his face. “…I understand that it is easier for me to get this kind of operation that it is for you, but…” he trailed of, gritting his teeth and the thought. He shifted his legs again and let his hand slip under the covers to cup at his manhood. “…This isn’t easy to even comprehend when you’re a man…”

Sara arched an eyebrow and leaned closer to him. She slid her hand underneath the covers, pushing his hand out of the way and cupping him herself. She placed a kiss to his chest. "But you're my big, strong, brave man. . ."

“No…” Michael giggled, arching out of her touch and batting her hand away playfully, shielding his boxers from her hands with his arm. “…I’m a weak, pathetic man who doesn’t want another man to cut part of his…” he looked down to his groin. “…I like him how he is,” he whined.

Sara giggled and moved back closer to him. "It's not like they take off part of it!" She rolled her eyes. "You won't even be able to tell." She crossed her arms. "Michael, you've had toes cut off!"

“That was different!” he objected with a chuckle. He eyed her suspiciously and pulled the covers tighter to his groin. “Why aren’t we discussing you having this operation, huh?” he quirked his eyebrow and grinned at her. “Why can’t you get something cut out?”

"Michael, it's an outpatient procedure with you!" Sara raised her voice. "They have to knock me out and actually do surgery if I'm going to have it done. I can't believe you're being such a baby."

“Sara, it’s my genitals!” Michael chuckled, pressing his finger to his lips. “Shh…you’ll wake the other baby,” he winked.

"You're such a baby. . ." Sara rolled her eyes and reached back between the covers, cupping him gently in her hand again. She began to softly stroke. "I'll take good care of you."

“Hmm…of that I have no doubt,” he smirked, gently taking her hand from his body even though it screamed at him to let her continue. “But sexual manipulation will not work with me,” he smiled again, lifting their hands from under the covers and letting them fall to his body.

"Michael," Sara gave him a look and scooted closer, pressing her body to his. She placed an open-mouthed kiss to his neck. "I think we both know that's not true."

Michael’s eyes fluttered closed and he sighed heavily, letting his body relax into her touch. “Okay, say I do this…” he whimpered, gulping afterwards. “Other then sex…whenever I want it…what do I get?” he smirked.

Sara smirked, moving her kisses to the other side of his neck, then up to his jaw. "There's something more than sex you want?"

“We are talking about my masculinity, Sara…” Michael murmured, desperately trying to focus as she crawled onto his body and began writhing against his.

"So. . . baby. . ." Sara pressed her lips to his and spoke between kisses. "Tell me. . . what. . . you. . . want."

Michael smiled and his laughter rumbled through his chest into Sara’s body. “I’d really like to sleep…” Michael said slowly, clenching his jaw and tilting his head backwards. “…But you’re going to keep kissing my god damn neck aren’t you?” he whispered, loosing his breath and pinching his eyes closed with a grin. His hands found her hips and stilled her on his body.

"Well. . ." Sara nipped at his neck lightly and shrugged, pressing her hips into his. "I'll stop if you really, really want me to."

“God…how can you do this to me?” Michel breathed, swallowing hard and feeling himself harden in his boxers against his protests. “…At four thirty am? God dammit, Sara…” Michael growled. “…I have to go to the office at seven,” he chuckled.

Sara laughed quietly and sat up, tugging her t-shirt over her head. She leaned back down, pressing her bare chest to his and kissing him. "Call in sick. You can spend the day here with me and the babies."

“Oh you’re so bad,” Michael groaned, letting his hands roam over her back and into the waistband of her panties. “And so wet…” he smirked against her lips as he slid his fingers across her entrance with a satisfied growl.

"Of course I am. . ." Sara breathed against his neck, fluttering her eyes closed. She let out a quiet moan. "I'm kissing you."

Michael laughed again. “I’m sorry…” he apologised for his inability to keep in the moment. “…You’re just trying to make me say yes to…you know…with your sexual ability to make me your slave,” Michael smirked, smoothing her hair from her face with both hands and planting a kiss to her lips as he rolled them over. “…But as much as my body hates me, I won’t let it work…” he grinned, pulling away from her and sitting on the edge of the bed. “I have to make sure I want this operation, okay?” He held his hands over his tired face and let out an audible moan at the discomfort in his boxers.

Sara sat up and gave him an annoyed look. "You think I just want to have sex with you to get you to do what I want?" She leaned back on the bed and sighed. "Whatever, Scofield. Don't have the operation. We just won't have sex anymore."

Michael pushed himself to his feet with a grunt and waved over his shoulder at her. “Fine. We won’t have sex anymore,” he shrugged. He padded on his tiptoes to their en suite bathroom and pushed open the door, tugging on the light switch and flinching at the brightness as it spilled onto his face.

"Excuse me?" Sara got out of bed and threw the covers off, following him into the bathroom. She reached for one of his t-shirts that set on the bathroom counter and tugged it over her head. "You never want to have sex with me again."

“I never said that,” Michael objected quickly, turning to face her. “You said ‘we’ would never have sex anymore. You and I,” he said, pointing from his body to hers with single finger. “Me and my hand…” he smiled, looking at his palm and wiggling his fingers at her. “…we can reacquaint our passion.”

"Whatever," Sara shrugged, rolling her eyes. "If keeping some kind of male pride is more important to you than me and my feelings then whatever, Michael. I won't argue with you."

“You think this about male pride?” Michael choked on a laugh, pressing his hand to his chest. “What if you decide you want more children when Roman and Sophia grow bigger, huh? Do you know how I will feel if I can’t give you what you want?” Michael took a few steps from her and reached into the cubicle to turn on the spray of water, turning the dial so it was almost freezing cold.

"I don't want more babies, I don't need more babies. We aren't getting any younger, Michael. . ." Sara trailed off and shook her head. "And even if we decided we did, the procedure is reversible."

Michael shook his head and scoffed at her words, turning from her and shaking off his boxers. They fabric hit the floor with no sound and he kicked them away from him, stepping into the shower and hissing when the cold water sprinkled over his body and against his hardened member. “That’s a comfort…”

"You know what?" Sara snapped. "Fine! I'll just stay on the pill forever. Who knows, maybe a few accidents will happen. Maybe we'll end up with six kids." She shook her head. "Fine. Discussion closed."

“I’ll do it!” Michael yelled, his voice echoing through the cubicle as he closed his eyes and shivered a little from the water. He held his hand to his chest and tried to keep in the warmth. “I’ll have the damn operation,” he sighed quickly, not turning to look at her.

"No, you won't," Sara snapped, moving to sit on the counter. She shook her head and sighed. "I'm not making you do something you don't want to. This discussion is over."

Michael turned the water off once his body was so cold he couldn’t feel anything anymore. He rubbed his hands over his face, past his blue tinted lips and through the growth on his chin. He pushed the door open and whipped a fluffy white towel from the towel rail. He fixed it around his waist and a trail of cold water dribbled from his hair down his chest. “Fine,” he shrugged, brushing past her back into the bedroom.

Sara sighed and sat still for a moment, burying her head in her hands. After a few long seconds, she pushed herself up and walked into the bedroom. Without saying a word, she crawled into bed and shut her eyes.

Michael finished patting down his body with a smaller towel and watched her crawl into bed. He quietly pulled open his drawers and got out a clean pair of boxers, sliding them over his legs and letting the towel fall from around his waist as he pulled them up. It slapped against the floor dully and he bent to retrieve it and folded it over the back of his chair. He knew she wasn’t asleep when he inched into the bed beside her and sighed, turning his head on the pillow and looking at the back of her head. “I love you, Sara.”

Sara lifted her head, a little surprised, then rolled around to face him. "I love you too, Michael. . ." She reached out, running her hand up his arm. "What's this really about? Do you want more kids?"

Michael shrugged and looked away from her. “What does it matter? You don’t want anymore, so…”

"I thought neither of us did. . ." Sara said softly. She leaned up and placed her hand on his cheek, turning his face so he would look at her. "If you feel different, then trust me, Michael, it matters to me."

Michael looked down, focusing on the bed between them and his fingers twiddled with the sheet. “I just…” he sighed, closing his eyes. “…Sara, I plan everything. From the second I get up in the morning, to the moment I go to bed at night. Any deviation and I…” he paused, clenching his jaw under her hand. “…Ever since you told me you loved me…in that crappy train bathroom…” he let out a small laugh. “…This is ridiculous. Forget it,” he shook his head and turned his entire body in the bed, facing away from her and hugging his pillow to his face.

"Michael. . ." Sara followed him and leaned over his body, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. "It's me. Talk to me. What did you have planned for us?"

“Let’s just say I didn’t plan for anyone to be cutting my Vas deferens at any point,” he smiled weakly. “I’ll do it. We don’t need more kids and like you say, it’s reversible if we did, right?” Michael arched his brow at his words and rested his hand over hers that had snaked its way around his waist and was resting on his stomach. “It’s change, Sara. Unplanned change. Give me a few days to adjust to the idea, okay?”

Sara pressed a kiss to Michael's neck. "If you don't want to do it and if you want more babies, Michael, we'll talk about it. That's what this marriage is about." She kissed him again. "It's just Sophia was so sick and. . . I'm not sure I can do it again. I'd be so worried the whole pregnancy."

“I know I can’t do it again, Sara,” Michael rolled over slowly, looking up at her with sadness in his eyes. “I nearly lost my baby girl. I can’t do that again.”

"Then let's not try to. . ." Sara told him softly, pressing her hand against his chest. "You, Roman and Sophia complete me, Michael. You three are all I need for the rest of my life."

Michael cupped her face in his hands and pulled her to him for a slow kiss. He let his lips linger on her and he teased his tongue across her bottom lips gently. “I’ll remember you said that when you’re pulling your hair out because Roman has pinched Sophia. Or Sophia has drawn makeup on one of Ro’s action men figures,” he laughed.

"Roman won't pinch. . ." Sara giggled quietly, shaking her head. "He's a good, sweet boy." She ran her hand along his side. "I love you. More than I can ever say."

“Hmm…” Michael hummed against her lips. “I love you too,” he whispered, stroking his thumb over her cheek and letting his mouth twitch up at the corner into a smile. “I’ve always loved you.”

"Always loved me?" Sara teased, pressing a kiss to his neck. "Always, always? Even when I found out you had a wife and non-broke up with you?"

“Before then,” Michael smiled and swallowed hard. “When I pulled you from the ceiling in those riots, and saw the look in your eye, I knew you loved me. You couldn’t hide it,” Michael smirked.

Sara rolled her eyes and pulled away slightly. "Please, Scofield. You're a little full of yourself, aren't you?"

“Ahh, you love it,” Michael laughed, watching her roll her eyes and shake her head at his words again. “It’s a turn on. I know it is,” he said matter of factly before he rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. He was unable to hide a yawn and groaned into the dark blue fabric.

"You're a turn-on, baby. Everything about you. . ." She placed a kiss to his head and relaxed down next to him. "Take tomorrow off."

Michael nodded into his pillow. “Okay…I’ll take tomorrow off…” he agreed with a smile. “If you promise you’ll use your beautiful hands to work out this knot I have in my back…” he winced as he reached around to press his hand to his spine. “Roman is getting too big to lift for an old man who was in a major accident,” he grinned.

Sara grinned and pressed a kiss to his back. After a moment she began to massage slowly. "You are getting pretty old. . ."

“Not as old as Lincoln…” Michael mused. “And shh, Scofield. You’re only two years younger, remember?”

"Yeah, but Linc is so big and strong. . ." Sara giggled and pushed harder, massaging slowly. "Hush your mouth. I'm still 30."

Michael stifled a laugh into his pillows and groaned when Sara increased the pressure to his spine menacingly. “Okay, if you say so baby,” he grinned, tensing again as she massaged his spasming muscles.

Sara giggled and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. "Don't you know by now never to argue with me? God, baby, we are going to be so tired tomorrow."

Michael laughed again and let out a groan when she kissed him. “Yes. Yes we are,” he smiled, peeling his eyes open to look up at her. “And it’s all your fault, baby.”

"You know. . ." Sara whispered in his ear. "If we're going to be tired anyway. . . we might as well make the best of it right now."

“Oh, should we?” Michael raised his eyebrow at her and rolled over onto his side to look at her. “What if I’m too tired?” he smirked playfully.

"You? Too tired for sex?" Sara scoffed and leaned in, pressing her lips to his. "You know you want me. So bad."

Michael quirked his eyebrow at her and laid flat on his back, propping himself up on the pillows and watching the smooth skin of her thighs as she straddled him and trailed her fingertips across his abdomen. “I have two kids you know…” he smiled up at her. “Two very…very…” his voice trailed off as she lifted his shirt up over her head and tossed it to the floor. “…Never mind.”

Sara smirked as she felt him harden against her thigh. She leaned down, pressing an open mouthed kiss to his neck. "Mmm. That was easy."

“Oh I see…” Michael growled, smoothing his hands down her naked back and pushing against the elastic of her panties. “…I’m just a conquest,” he laughed a little as she kissed her way down his chest, lightly trailing her tongue over his sensitive nipple. “Well, I got news for you, Scofield. I am not as easy as you think.”

"Oh, is that so?" Sara murmured against his chest. "Because I think turning you on is very, very, very easy. . . baby."

Michael chuckled and his skin prickled to life as her hair tickled his skin. “Don’t let the erection fool you, baby. I got rid of it once, I can do it again,” he smirked when she looked up at him.

Sara leaned up on him and smiled. "Well, Scofield, if you don't want sex I guess I can find. . . other means."

“Ooo…” Michael cheered excitedly, wiggling underneath of her and rubbing his hands together. “Can I watch?” he growled, running his tongue over his bottom lip before biting down of the skin.

Sara rolled her eyes and shook her head. "No! There will absolutely be no watching from you." She rolled her eyes and kissed him. "I don't like doing myself."

“What? Why not?” Michael asked, pressing his head into the pillows and frowning hard. “It’s very hot,” he smirked, his voice a low rasp as the words left his mouth. “Don’t tell me after five years of marriage you’re shy?” he teased. “You are sitting on me in just your panties,” he pointed out, watching the gently curve of her breasts bounce against her body each time she moved.

"I'm not shy. . ." Sara shook her head. "Not at all. It just. . . feels so much better when you do it. And watching your enjoyment is half the pleasure."

“Oh I see,” Michael chuckled. “You’re not shy. You just want me to do all the work,” he rolled his eyes playfully and folded his arms across his naked, tattooed chest. “That doesn’t seem very fair,” he arched his eyebrow and took a hefty breath. “What If I told you I could find other means too?” he smiled coyly.

"I would tell you. . ." Sara pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. "That those means wouldn't even compare to the magic I can do to your body."

Michael kissed her back with a smile and sucked on her lip, savouring the feel of the flesh against his lips. “What if I said you could watch?” he whispered against her mouth, flicking his eyes up to meet hers.

Sara smirked, her eyes lighting up with passion. "Then I'd say you better start the show."

“Okay…” Michael mirrored her smirk and pressed his hands to her thigh, pushing on her legs and sliding her down to his knees. “…You want to stay there?” he quirked an eyebrow and reached into his boxers, pulling his member free and tucking the waistband down under his scrotum. A small laugh escaped his chest and he shook his head slowly, moving his hand to his mouth to lubricate it with some of his saliva. He reached back down and closed his fingers around his shaft. “I can’t believe I am doing this at…” he looked at the alarm clock. “…five thirty in the morning. And my wife is watching.”

"Why not?" Sara purred, tracing her fingers up his thighs. She pressed her fingertips into his hip bones and smirked. "I think it's sexy."

“It is?” Michael said surprised. “I didn’t think women found it arousing…” he shrugged. “If you like it so much…” he rasped, stopping his stroking and looking up at her. “…Why don’t you tell me what to do?”

Sara placed her hand over his and guided his strokes. "How about I show you what to do?" She continued to guide his hand in slow strokes, flicking her thumb out over his tip with each stroke.

Michael shook his head and plucked her hand from his. “Now, now…no touching,” he smirked. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered, slowly stroking himself, twisting his wrists each time he brushed his palm over his sensitive end.

Sara leaned down, pressing a kiss to the inside of each of his thighs. She could almost taste him. "Stroke a little faster, baby."

Michael did as he was told and increased his pace, feeling the burning friction between his skin and his palm and hissing slightly. His mouth hung open an inch and his eyes fluttered closed. He bit on his bottom lip and let out a growl.

Sara moved her kisses to his hip bones. "Now slow down just a little. . . and then go faster again. Tell me how it feels, baby."

Michael felt a breath leave him as he slowed down, and he gulped hard. The pressure inside of his gut faded away and it left a tingling sensation in his groin. Per Sara’s request his hand gripped tighter to his erection and he moaned in pleasure as he sped up again, twisting his wrist and focusing most of his strokes on his tip. “Mmm…It feels….” He began but his words failed him.

Sara smirked and sat back up, staring down at him for a moment. She fluttered her eyes shut and ran her hand down her stomach, pushing two fingers underneath the hem of her panties. "I'm so turned on."

Michael felt a surge of adrenaline course through his body. If he didn’t know better he would say it leapt straight from his fingertips into his erection. “Oh yeah, baby…” he muttered quickly, panting as he increased his pace a bit more. “…Talk to me. You know what I like,” he growled, changing hands.

Sara slid her hand further into her panties, gently stroking herself. She whimpered quietly. "I'm so wet. . ."

“Yeah?” Michael panted, returning to long strokes of his member that turned even harder in his hand. “Oh fuck…” Michael whimpered when he peeled his eyes open and saw Sara. Her back was arched, pushing her hips against her hand as she rode her fingers slowly.

"Michael. . ." Sara whimpered, biting onto her bottom lip. "I want . .. I want you to touch me."

Michael reached out and slid his hand up her thigh, tickling the inside of the muscle and slipping his fingers inside of her panties. He gasped a little, feeling the warm liquid pre come ooze from his tip as he touched her slick folds. “Here, baby?”

Sara let out a gasp and rocked into him. "Ohhhh, Michael. . . " She bit her bottom lip and groaned. "Do you know how in love with you I am?"

“I have a pretty good idea…” Michael groaned, pounding his fist against his abdomen each time he stroked down his shaft. His breath left him forcefully and he kept a steady rhythm against Sara’s damp, sodden folds. Michael pulled his hand from her panties and rubbed her ejaculate over his member, pulling at her panties with his other hand. “Okay, I’m broken. I need to feel you around me. Now,” he growled, holding back his release.

Sara quickly pushed her panties all the way down and moved back up to straddle him. "I want to feel you come inside me."

Michael positioned himself at her entrance and gripped her hips as she sank onto him. He let out a long groan, slamming his head back into the pillows and watching himself disappear into her. “Fuck me, Sara.”

Sara moved up and down on him, trying to quiet her moans. She pressed her hands against his chest, riding him hard. "You like this?"

Michael nodded, clenching his muscles and trying to fight off his orgasm. He frowned in pained pleasure and his fingernails dug into her skin, leaving semicircular welts on her skin. “Harder. Fuck it harder, baby.”

Sara moved on him even harder, biting down as hard as she could on her lip to stifle her cries. After a moment, she shook her head. "I. . . I can't. . . take it. . ."

Michael peeled his eyes open and looked up at her. His eyes were groggy but he could make out the distinct roundness of her breasts as the bounced on her body, an action mirrored by her hair. With a quick and precise action, he sat upright, crushing his bare chest to hers as she rode him. His change in angle made her scream and Michael bunched up a fistful of her hair, pulled her head towards his and crushed his lips to hers as he came hard and fast.

Sara held Michael close to her as she shuddered against him, riding out her orgasm. She pressed her face into his neck and giggled quietly. "Wow. I love early morning sex."

“Or is it late night sex?” Michael smirked, brushing her hair from her brow and kissing her slightly damp, salty forehead. “You liked the show I take it?”

"Oh, baby, I more than liked the show. . ." Sara nibbled at his neck and giggled. "It's nice to know our sex life is still good."

“Of course it’s still good,” Michael objected with a laugh. “You married me, didn’t you?” he smirked and flipped them over quickly so that Sara was pinned under him. “The Michael Scofield show is open to you anytime you want it, baby,” he growled, dipping his head and planting soft, open mouthed kisses down her ear and then her neck.

Sara groaned and shifted her body against his. "Michael. . . as much as I'd love another show right now, I need some rest."

“Oh, now you’re tired!” he laughed, pushing himself up to look down at her with a quirked eyebrow. “Now you’ve got what you wanted, you’re tired,” he rolled his eyes.

Sara fluttered her eyes shut and shrugged. "You know me, baby. I'm just in it for the sex!"

Michael narrowed his eyes at her at shook his head a little. “If people only knew how kinky you really were, Sara…” Michael laughed, sliding from her body and resting up beside her. He tucked his arm under his pillow and rested his head next to her so they were almost touching. “You hide it well.”

Sara grinned and brushed her lips across his. "I just enjoy all kinds of sex with you, Michael. There's nothing wrong with that. I'm still sweet, sensitive Sara."

“Hmm…” Michael pressed his lips to hers. “Sweet…” he mouthed against her lips. “…Sensitive…” he trailed his hand down her naked body under the covers, watching her lips twitch up into a smile. “…Sara.”

Sara smirked, pressing her body into his. "Michael Scofield, are you trying to start something again? I might fall asleep in the middle."

“Then we should sleep. It’s no fun if you’re not screaming my name,” Michael smirked, pressing his lips to hers again and letting them linger against her mouth. “Good night, baby,” he whispered, watching her eyes flutter closed as the daylight began to drift through the crack in their drapes across her bare shoulders.


	59. Chapter 59

“Ro, don’t touch that,” Michael said quickly, turning back to the rack of expensive leather handbags in front of him. His little boy’s giggle alerted him again and he turned around to see him darting under a rail of women’s clothes. “Roman!” Michael said in a hushed voice, shooting a glance around the store. “Roman, come here,” he scolded weakly, pointing to the ground next to him.

"Nooo . . ." Roman sang out, standing up and moving further away from his father. "We play hide and seek!"

“Not now…” Michael growled, stepping towards the rail with a forced smile. With kids, the trick was to trap them, a talent Michael severely lacked. “…we’ll play later, okay?” he said slowly, circling the rack of clothes. “Daddy has to pick up a gift for mommy or you’ll never get anymore brother’s and sisters,” he sang, narrowing his eyes and peering through the clothes at Roman’s giggling figure.

Roman giggled and darted away from Michael again. "No more brothers and sisters!" He stopped running and sighed. "Go home now?"

“We can’t…” Michael said with a sigh as he darted after Roman. “Daddy has to get mommy a gift for their anniversary,” he grunted, missing Roman by a few inches as the boy ran off giggling.

Roman ran around in a circle before crashing into Michael's leg and holding on tightly. "Get her a viiideo!"

“A Video?” Michael chuckled lightly, looking down at his son and ruffling his hair with a tattooed arm. “And what would mommy like a video of, hmm?” Michael asked him with a frown.

Roman tugged on his Daddy's shirt. "Um. Ses'me Street!"

Michael titled his head to one side and his face broke into a smile. “You mean Sesame Street?” Michael arched his brow, pulling Roman’s tiny hands from the hem of his shirt and dropping to a squat in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, Michael could see a store security watching him, aided by a tall, middle aged woman with too much makeup and her nose in too many people’s business.

Roman threw back his head, letting out a chorus of giggles. "Daddy! That's what I said! Ses'me Street!"

“So you say!” Michael said with a hearty squeak, pushing himself to his feet and offering Roman his hand as he needed to move to another part of the store. “Come on, let’s find Mommy a gift over here…” Michael began but Roman slipped from his hands and bounded of giggling. “Oh no…he can’t run…” Michael played along, hunching himself over as he ran up behind Roman and scooped him into his arms, flipping him sideways and holding him under his arm while his legs kicked out and he squealed in laughter.

Roman wiggled in Michael's embrace, turning in every direction as his father tickled him. He shrieked with laughter. "No no no no no silly!"

“Ah!” Michael growled with laughter. “He can’t escape now!” Michael sang, lifting Roman above his head and shaking him from side to side in the air, his little rosy cheeks turning his entire face red as his hair dangled upside down and his hands grappled with Michael’s head.

"Sir. . ." The guard who had been talking to the sales woman walked over to Michael and spoke quietly to him. "I'm going to need you to put the boy down."

Michael carried on laughing as he turned to the guard with a frown and let Roman slide down his body to the floor. “I’m sorry…?” he asked cheerily, not losing his smile but panting a little from the effort of lifting his son.

The guard ignored Michael and kneeled down to look at Roman. "Son. Where's your mommy?"

Roman glanced curiously up at Michael, then back to the guard. Without answering, he moved around, hiding behind Michael's legs.

“It’s okay, Ro…” Michael said slowly, not wanting to scare the boy. He laid a hand on his head and stroked his hair backwards over the shape of his skull. “Is there a problem here?” Michael said to the guard.

The officer put his hand on his walkie talkie, then motioned to the sales clerk. "We had a report that you were trying to force this boy to come with you." The guard reached for Roman's arm. "Come on, I'll help you find your mommy. He can't hurt you."

“Hey!” Michael snapped, moving further in front of Roman and batting the guard hand away. “Get your hands away from my son!” Michael frowned at the guard, shooting an angry glance at the clerk behind the desk. “What gives you the right to accuse me of that, hmm?”

Roman gripped on tighter to Michael's leg and began to whimper quietly. Another guard came up and the first guard leaned in, "He says he's his son."

After a moment the second guard looked at him. "She has a mugshot of you, sir."

“A what?!” Michael asked astounded, clutching to Roman tighter. “How can you be so sure it’s me?” Michael laughed, humored by the hilarity of the situation.

One guard motioned to the other and he reached into his pocket, pulling out the picture. "Is your name Michael Scofield?"

Michael narrowed his eyes suspiciously and gave Roman a quick smile before hushing his voice. “Yes. Why? I can assure you you are chasing a very, very cold lead, guys,” he looked between the guards with a smile. “Do you not watch the news?”

The guards shared a glance. "Listen, why don't you just leave the little boy with us right here. And let us take you in for some questioning. If you've got nothing to hide."

Roman clutched tighter onto Michael's leg and let out a loud wail.

“You’re scaring him!” Michael yelled, grabbing the attention of a few other shoppers and waving his tattooed arm towards the men. “Get away from us!” Michael spat, taking Roman’s hand and turning to leave. “Come on, Ro. We’re leaving.”

One of the men called for back-up on his radio, while the other blocked Michael's path. "I'm afraid we can't let you do that, sir."

A moment later, another officer who was all-too-familiar to Michael appeared. "Scofield? You just can't stay outta trouble!"

Michael turned back around slowly, trapped between the three men. “You…” he growled at the third guard. He was older then Michael remembered him looking, a little fatter but had almost no hair that he kept short, just like last time. Michael instinctively pulled Roman back to his leg and held him there with a firm hand to his back. “You stay away from him, Bellick,” Michael spat.

Bellick glanced from the guards to Michael, then down to the little boy. He knelt down and pulled a sucker from his pocket, offering it to him. "Heard your kid looked just like you, Scofield, but didn't think it'd be this close a resemblance. All he needs is a couple hundred temporary tattoos."

“Leave it, Roman,” Michael said firmly, staring at Bellick. Michael didn’t trust Bellick. No after everything he had done to him. To his friends. To Sara. “So this is what you do now, huh boss?” Michael said sarcastically, bending to lift Roman into his arms. The other guards grabbed their tazers in their belts and Michael eyed them suspiciously, turning Roma’s face into his shirt. “You gonna call off your dogs, Brad? I’m a free man now. You know that.”

"Leave him alone." Bellick looked back at the two guards behind Michael. "You can't just go around assuming people are kidnapping, kids. Jesus Christ, you two are a lawsuit waiting to happen." He looked back to Michael. "The kid can't have suckers?"

“Not from you,” Michael said darkly, shifting Roman in his arms as the two guards stepped down and looked at each other confused. “Relax guys,” Michael said to them slowly. “Normal people get tattoos too, you know.”

Bellick motioned for the other two guards to leave and when he did, he crossed his arms. "How's. . . Dr. Tancredi?"

“She’s Dr. Scofield now,” Michael said smugly.

"So I've heard. . ." Bellick trailed off. "Didn't think she'd be stupid enough to take that last name with everything it's attached to."

“I saved an innocent man,” Michael said in his defense, letting Roman down from his arms to the floor. “Hey buddy, why don’t you go find mommy a video, okay?” he said with a soft smile, smoothing Roman’s t-shirt back over his body.

Roman shook his head and clutched against Michael's leg again. He buried his face in the fabric of Michael's pants and sniffled. "Nooo. I stay with you."

Michael didn’t really want Roman to hear his conversation with his old CO, but he didn’t really want the boy wandering off either. He offered him his hand again and Roman clutched at it with both of his. “So tell me…how old is their mug shot?” Michael asked, nodding towards the store’s embarrassed clerk.

Bellick shrugged. "I'm guessing you were somewhere south of the border when it started circulating."

“Wow…” Michael looked around surprised. “Hold on buddy, we’ll go soon, okay?” Michael smiled down at Roman who was tugging on his arm and looking at Bellick with a scared glance.

"Gooo now. . ." Roman tugged on Michael's arm and sniffled. "I want Mommy. I want Mommy nooow!"

“Yeah me too, buddy,” Michael said slowly, lifting the boy back into his arms and backing away from Bellick. “You make sure you stay away from my wife and my kids,” Michael threatened on a whisper, turning and leaving the store quickly.

Roman fussed as Michael buckled him into the backseat of the car. When Michael finally began to drive, Roman began to wail.

Sara sat at home, rocking Sophia and humming quietly to her. She had just got done feeding her and laid her in her crib when she heard the sound of Michael's SUV pulling to the driveway. She brushed her fingers over her baby's forehead. "Daddy's home!"

Michael unbuckled Roman and the boy scrambled from his seat and across the seat to the door quickly. “Wait…” Michael warned him as he pulled to door open and took his hand, helping him step down from the high seats on some special child friendly steps Michael had installed on the side of the truck. When Roman hit the ground he ran up the drive to the front door, pushing it open with a stretch and running into the lounge, closely followed by a tired looking Michael.

Sara walked into the room and laughed as Roman threw himself into her arms. She laughed as she hoisted him up. "Shh, the baby's sleeping!" Roman hugged her neck and she glanced to Michael. "God, baby, you look exhausted!"

Michael let out a long breath and collapsed onto the couch, rubbing his eyes with his hands. “Guess who I saw in the store today?” he said, looking up at her with a arched brow, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Bellick. Two of his underdogs tried to accuse me of kidnapping Roman!” he said in a hushed voice, slamming his fist into the couch with frustration.

"What?!" Sara set Roman down. "Go upstairs and play for a little bit, ok baby?" When he scurried off, Sara turned back to Michael. "You. . . he. . . what?!"

“Yeah…” Michael laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “They stopped me and tried to take Ro. Said I was not leaving the store with him,” he added quickly. He let out a frustrated growl and clenched his fists. “And Bellick offered him candy! Ah!” he gritted his jaw closed and snorted. “I could have killed him.”

Sara moved to sit down on the couch, placing her hand on Michael's knee. "Oh, baby, I can't even imagine. Why would they think you were kidnapping him?" Her eyes widened a little. "Did Bellick set it up?"

Reluctantly, Michael shook his head. “No, he was…nice…?” Michael offered with a frown. “I don’t know. Some clerk had a mug shot from when I was in Panama and the wannabe cops jumped right on me,” he sighed, shaking his head. He placed his hand over hers and let his head fall back against the cushions.

Sara leaned towards him and brushed her fingers across his forehead. "Well. It doesn't matter now. You're home." She leaned over, kissing him. "Sophia missed you."

Michael smiled at her sweetly and lifted her hand from his knee, interlocking their fingers and rubbing his thumb over her palm. “I missed my baby girl too,” he whispered against her face. “And her mommy,” he smirked. “Oh…crap!” Michael said, stunting his curse in case Roman was around and heard. “I didn’t get you an anniversary present…” Michael said sadly, screwing his face up a little.

"I think you had bigger things to worry about," Sara smiled softly as a wailed resounded from upstairs. She grinned. "Check on Roman and I'll go change Sophia."

“No…” Michael sighed, grabbing her hand and stopping her from leaving. “I’ll change her,” he smiled sweetly, pulling her closer, nearly on top of his body. “And maybe later…we can exchange…gifts?” he purred into her ear.

Sara laughed quietly, ducking her head to kiss him softly on his mouth. "Mmm. I like the sound of that, Scofield."

“Mmmm…” Michael hummed against her lips, pulling her back down for another kiss when she tried to leave again. He chuckled a little and let her hand go, signaling she could leave. When she moved from him, Michael jumped to his feet and bounded up the stairs behind her, grabbing her when they reached the top and pulling her back flush with his body. “Is it bed time yet?” he murmured into her ear with a grin, stopping outside of Sophia’s pink nursery and groaning when she carried on to Roman’s room.

Sara checked on Roman, and found him deep in concentration, playing with some cars. She watched him for a minute, then continued to the nursery where Michael was talking softly to Sophia. She grinned, "You're pretty good at this diaper thing."

Michael finished off Sophia’s diaper and tucked her little legs back into her pajamas, snapping the poppers shut quickly. “Well, I’ve done it before…” he smiled proudly, tucking his hands behind Sophia’s head and lifting the tot into his arms. She wriggled for a second, wiping her face against his chest as he bounced her up and down softly. “…My little miracle baby…” Michael cooed at Sophia when she yawned in his arms, blinking her dark hazel eyes a few times.

"She's getting bigger. . ." Sara cooed, closing the gap between herself and her husband and daughter. She trailed one finger down Sophia's arm and smiled. "Yes. Tell Daddy you ate twice while he was gone!"

“Twice!” Michael repeated Sara’s words at his daughter with a heart swelling smile. The tiny baby scrunched her face up and let out a short wail, closing her fist and letting her bottom lip quiver a little. “Oh daddy’s so proud of you,” Michel lifted Sophia to his face and pressed his lips to her forehead, gently smoothing his hand over her dark ruddy hair. “He was so scared when you came early…” he words were interrupted by another little screech and he mimicked her facial expression, waiting for her to stop. “…Yes he was!” he grinned at her.

Sara smiled and placed a quick kiss on Michael's cheek as she watched their daughter bat her hands up and down. "Ah, this is the perfect anniversary present. Everyone home and happy."

Michael turned to her and smiled, smoothing his hand over Sophia’s tiny back and holding her close to his chest. He leaned forward, pressing his smile to Sara’s lips for a slow kiss that was soon interrupted by Roman crashing into their legs. Michael looked down at his son when he tugged on his jeans. “What’s up, Ro-man?” Michael smiled down at his son, gently turning to the side so he could see the blue eyed, grinning toddler over his daughter in his arms.

Roman giggled and held his hands up in the air. He glanced from his mommy to his daddy. "Roman hold baby!"

“You want to hold you’re sister?” Michael said with a grin, looking back up to Sara. Roman had been difficult the last few weeks, not wanting to accept the presence of another baby in the family. Michael had tried to explain, in the best way he could think of when dealing with a toddler, that Sophia was his little baby sister. That meant Roman wasn’t the baby anymore and he had to be a good big brother. “First, Ro, tell me who this is?” Michael teased him, taking his hand and walking him over to the rocking chair in the nursery.

Roman folded his arms and got comfortable in the rocking chair. He held out his arms. "Baby Sophia, Daddy."

“That’s right,” Michael said with a nod, gently stepping on the chair to still it’s rocking. “And who are you?”

"I'm. . ." Roman drew out the word and blinked his eyes slowly, pressing his hand to his chest. "The big brother."

“Yes you are!” Michael said with a small laugh, turning back to look at Sara and mouthing ‘camera’ to her. “Okay, Roman,” Michael said firmly, the seriousness in his voice taking over. Sophia shifted in his arms when he lifted her into the space between them and Roman touched her with outstretched arms. “You have to be very careful because Sophia was born too early and she was in the hospital…do you remember?” Michael said, nodding to Roman who’s eyes were transfixed on his sister as she was moved closer to his body. “Look at how small she is,” Michael said, finally brining himself to let go of Sophia and she settled in Roman’s arms.

"She's very tiny. . ." Roman said softly, holding completely still as he held the baby. He pressed his lips gently to her forehead. "Hi, baby Sophia. . ."

Sara had hurried to the bedroom and came back, handing the camera to Michael. "Here you go."

Sophia wiggled a little in Roman’s arms when his kiss disturbed her sleep and Roman’s face lit up with panic. “It’s okay…just sit still…” Michael said softly, resting his hand to Roman’s little elbow until the baby had relaxed again. Michael dropped to his knees in front of his two children and shuffled back a little, turning the digital camera on and focusing on them on the display. “Hey, Roman, smile,” Michael cheered quietly, snapping the boy's cherub grin when he looked up towards his father.

"Look at you guys. . ." Sara murmured, kneeling down in front of her two children and smiling. "Careful, baby. . ." She placed her hand under Roman's arm for a moment, supporting Sophia's head higher. "There we go!"

Michael darted sideways and took another photograph, a candid shot of Sara smiling at Roman and the baby. “Aww, all my babies…” he cooed with an impish grin, fiddling with the camera in his hands when Sara shot him a glance of disapproval.

Sara brushed her hand over Roman's forehead, as he smiled down at his baby sister. "You're such a big boy, Rome. What do you think of your baby sister?"

Roman kept his gaze on the baby, then glanced shyly from Sara to Michael. "I love her."

Michael’s heart swelled with a bit more pride and he sat down behind Sara, pulling her onto his lap and setting the camera aside. He buried his face in her neck and wrapped his arms around her waist, sighing against her skin. “He loves her,” he whispered, not really believing the words himself. “Roman loves Sophia,” he repeated a little louder and the boy nodded firmly, kissing his sister again.

Sara turned her head and pressed a soft kiss to Michael's forehead. She glanced back to where Roman was humming a quiet tune to Sophia, and felt tears well in her eyes. "We're so lucky."

Michael nodded, resting his chin on her shoulder after he kissed the skin there. “There is nothing else I’d rather have than my children safe and well,” he said gently, reaching out and rubbing a hand over Roman’s knee. “I’m the luckiest man in the whole world,” he said, lifting his head and meeting her gaze when she turned to him. “You gave me this…” he smiled, pressing his lips to hers slowly. “…Thank you.”

"Hey it wasn't just me," Sara whispered against his lips, shaking his head. "You helped a little bit too, you know?"

Roman giggled and looked down at Sophia. "Mommy and Daddy kiss lots."

Michael smirked at her and kissed her again. “The boy’s smart…he can’t be Linc’s…” he grinned, gently sucking on her bottom lip as he kissed her and Roman giggled.

Roman made a small noise as Sophia burped and spit up a little. "Ewww. Mommy she throwed up!"

Michael helped Sara to her feet and as she took Sophia from her brother, Michael lifted him from the chair and raised his arms above his head. “Shirt…” Michael said as Roman copied his actions and he cupped the cloudy vomit in his hand so it wouldn’t smear across Roman’s face. The boy’s hair went static as Michael pulled the fabric over his head with a strained force and then balled in it his fists and walked from the room. “Roman!” Michael called softly, making the boy bounce after him obediently as he went to his room and got him a new t-shirt.

Roman followed Michael into his bedroom, taking the shirt from his daddy and pulling it over his head. He giggled and moved to his bed, jumping up and down. "Icky baby."

Michael tossed the dirty shirt into Roman’s laundry bin and smiled at him. “You did that once,” he said with a nod, moving over towards his son and sitting on his miniature sized bed. He grabbed the boy to stop him from bouncing and laid him across his lap, pining him down with a massive hand to his belly. “All. Over. Daddy!” He growled playfully, digging his fingers into Roman’s sides and tickling him.

"No waaay!" Roman giggled, squirming in his daddy's lap. He shrieked with laughter, grabbing onto Michael's shirt and pressing his face into the soft material. "You're so silly."

Michael laughed joyfully and widened his grin at Roman, letting the boy slip from his lap onto the bed behind him. “It’s true. Would daddy lie?” Michael said innocently with an arched brow, bending to pick up a discarded sock from the ground that had come off in the scuffle.

"No," Roman shook his head and reclined on his bed, throwing his arms out around him. "Lying bad." He pulled off his other sock, then looked up at Michael. "I see Daddy's toes?"

Michael shifted to sit sideways on the bed, tucking one of his legs half under himself. He took the other sock from Roman and grabbed his ankles, pulling the boy closer to him and resting his feet in his lap. His hair sprayed out of his Sesame Street comforter and he let out a quick giggle, biting his tongue between his teeth and blowing a short raspberry. “That’s right…lying is bad. Good boy,” he smiled pleased with Roman’s declaration. “And no, you’ve seen daddy’s toes before,” he shook his head slowly, quickly gasping in feigned amazement at Roman’s feet. “Look!” he pointed to the wiggling toes.

"Nooo!" Roman giggled and rolled over, crawling across the bed and reaching for Michael's sock. "I see Daddy's toes now!" He giggled louder and tried to wrestle Michael down.

Sara laid Sophia back down after she was changed and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. She walked slowly down to Roman's room, and paused in the doorway, watching her boys together.

Michael fell onto his back, holding Roman around his torso and holding him away from his socks while he giggled and laughed. Michael kept his foot moving so Roman couldn’t grab the material and he let out a groan and a puff of air when Roman crawled up his body, kneeing him in the groin and kicking him in the stomach.

Roman giggled loudly, sitting on Michael's chest. He squeezed his cheeks and leaned down, placing a kiss on his father's forehead. "I love you, Daddy." He quickly turned, crawling down the bed, taking hold of one of Michael's socks and yanking it off.

“Ah!” Michael said quickly, sitting up and misjudging the space between him and Roman and loosing his sock. “He got me with the I love you line!” Michael laughed, grabbing Roman’s hip and pulling him against his chest to sit between his legs on his bed. He wiggled his lack of toes and kissed the back of Roman’s head. “Happy now little man?” he ruffled the boy's hair with a slight blush and a smile.

"I win!" Roman giggled, tossing his head backwards against Michael's chest so he could look up at him. He reached up and took hold of Michael's face, pulling him down for a kiss. "Daddy has eight toes, Roman has ten!"

“Roman is so smart,” Michael smiled sweetly, planting his lips to Roman’s forehead again. “Isn’t he, mommy?” Michael said slowly, looking up to Sara in the doorway after he caught her figure smiling at them from the corner of his eye.

Sara nodded, walking into the room as her smile grew wider. She dropped down on the bed, on the other side of Roman and placed a kiss to each of his cheeks. "The smartest little boy in the whole world!"

Roman made a face and looked at Sara. "I'm the big boy."

Michael looked up at Sara over Roman’s head and smirked at his words, offering her a twisted smile and a wink. Michael took his sock from his son and pulled it back onto his foot, hiding his disfigured foot with a small cough.

"Oh, you're the big boy, is that so?" Sara laughed as Roman crawled into his lap. "Oh nooo, a big boy can't sit in Mommy's lap! He'd be too big!" Sara smirked as Roman wrapped his arms around her neck, and he giggled. She joined in his laughter and fell back, taking him with her. "He's just too big!"

Michael crawled up beside them and wrapped his arm over the pair of them. “What about daddy, huh?” he said playfully, nuzzling his face into Roman’s neck and making the boy shiver with laughter. “Does Roman think daddy is too big for a cuddle with mommy?” Michael smirked, looking down at Sara.

Roman's smile grew wider and he sat up, pushing Michael playfully away. He leaned back over Sara, wrapping his arms around her neck. "My Mommy."

“Your mommy? Aww…” Michael pouted, sitting up and looking away from Roman’s smiling face with a fake look of hurt. He sniffed a few times and hid his face in his hand, pretending to cry.

"Aww, did you make Daddy cry?" Sara asked, sitting up and adjusting Roman on her lap. She rubbed Michael's back. "Poor Daddy."

Roman wrinkled his nose and giggled. "Daddy, no cry! You’re not the baby! Sophia is."

Michael sniffed harder and turned away from them, hiding his broad grin under his palms as he made whimpering noises under his hands.

"Aww, baby," Sara brushed Roman's hair back and kissed his forehead. "I think you hurt Daddy's feelings."

Roman sighed and moved over, crawling into Michael's lap. He laid his head against Michael's chest and sighed. "Okaaay. Daddy's Mommy too."

“Rar!” Michael roared, making Roman jump before he burst into giggles and hunched his shoulders over and fiddled his hands in each other. He picked him up and held him tighter to his body, shaking him from side to side and smothering his face in kisses. “Daddy wants Roman!” he growled playfully, holding him weakly as he squealed and wiggled from his grasp, lay on his belly and pushed himself off the bed hurriedly and bolted down the landing. Michael laughed and watched him go, biting his bottom lip and turning back to Sara with flushed cheeks and a slight panting breath. “Daddy’s mommy,” he smiled.

Sara smirked and stood up, sauntering slowly over to Michael. She pushed him back against the wall and pressed her mouth to his in a slow kiss, speaking softly. "Do you have. . . any idea. . . how much of a turn on it is. . . to see how you much you adore our son?"

Michael looked down to her hand pressed to his chest and his breath quickened even more. “I do now…” he smirked, leaning forward and capturing her lips for another harsh kiss.

Sara cupped Michael's face in her hands and kissed him slowly. After several seconds, she pulled away. "You'd better go get your son."

Michael shrugged a little, diving his face into her neck and humming contently against her skin as he pressed hot, wet kisses to he flesh there. He pushed her from the wall, turning them around and pinning her against the hard surface. His hands roamed up her ribcage slowly, tickling the side of her tender breasts. “He’ll come back when he is bored of waiting…” Michel whispered.

"Mmm. . ." Sara fluttered her eyes shut and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. "Don't start something you can't finish, Scofield."

Michael pulled back a little and smirked down at her. “I never do…” he arched an eyebrow innocently, pressing his lips to hers again but letting out a frustrated growl when he heard the thundering patter of Roman’s feet coming along the hall towards his room.

Sara smiled and moved away from Michael as Roman ran into the room and threw himself at her legs. "Mommy! Daddy! Play a game?"

Michael let out a frustrated growl much to Sara’s amusement as he hit his head against the wall where she had just been. “You need to calm down a little, Ro,” Michael scolded lightly, giving Sara one last smile as he left the room with the boy in tow. “Daddy is going to make you some dinner and then you need a bath and then bed, okay?”

"No!" Roman jumped up and down, grabbing onto Michael's leg. "No bed, no bed!"

“Yes!” Michael argued weakly, dragging his leg across the floor. “Mommy? Come and tell Roman he has to go to bed after his bath please,” he called down the landing softly. “And shhh, Ro. You can’t wake Sophia and big boys don’t cry, do they?” Michael lifted the boy’s limp figure into his arms and wiped away his tears.

"No bed!" Roman wailed into Michael's shoulder as Sara followed them down the hallway. "I'm not. . . I'm not sleepy!"

“No, but after your diner, and your bath time you will be,” Michael soothed, patting Roman’s back and stepping down the stairs. “Trust daddy…you’ll be tired, right mommy?”

"Daddy's right," Sara said softly, following them down the hallway to the kitchen. "It's okay, baby."

Roman sniffled. "I sleep with Mommy and Daddy."

Michael shot Sara a glace, making his eyes go wide and shaking his head so slightly she almost couldn’t see it.

Sara stepped in front of Michael and Roman, placing her hand on Roman's back. She gave Michael a look. "You don't wanna sleep with Mommy and Daddy! You're a big boy, remember?"

“And big boys sleep in their own big boy beds,” Michael nodded handing Roman to Sara and giving him a smile when he turned to look at him.

"Yes, they do!" Sara placed a kiss on Roman's cheek. "Now, what is Daddy making us for dinner?"

“How about…” Michael said, pinching his bottom lip with thought. “…How about daddy makes spaghetti and meatballs?” Michael said, looking at Roman. “You like daddy’s pasta, right buddy?” he said, flipping the pan over in his hands and filling it with water, trying to cheer Roman up.

Roman clapped his hands in excitement. "Passsta!"

“Pasta it is,” Michael smiled and cooked the meal. Afterwards, Sara gave Roman a bath and then, as if he had been given pop, he ran around the lounge screaming and waving his arms while Michael tried to put his pajamas on. Michael finally managed to get them on but then it took him nearly two hours to persuade him he was tired when he defiantly protested to being put in his bed at the late hour of eleven. “Okay, Roman,” Michael finally said, almost exhausted as his son’s eyes fluttered closed. “Sleep,” he whispered, brushing his hair from his brow and kissing him goodnight.

Sara leaned against the doorframe, and watch as Michael laid next to their son in his small bed. "Is it Daddy's bedtime too?"

Michael slipped from the bed silently, recovering Roman who stirred into the warm space left by Michael’s body. He yawned and padded towards Sara, flicking on Roman’s dim night light and pulling the door closed behind him. “My God…” Michael breathed with a slight laugh and a roll of his eyes. “…I bet Sophia went off easier, right?”

Sara giggled softly, reaching her hand out for Michael. "Is my baby ready for bed?"

Michael arched an eyebrow and took her hand, pretending to drag his feet as Sara led him to their bedroom with a wicked smile. He stepped into the darkness and her hand slipped from his and he pushed the door closed quietly. With a quick motion, he reached over the back of his head and pulled his shirt from his body, letting it pool on the floor while he discarded his jeans ready for bed.

Sara smirked and turned around, wiggling out of her jeans. She yanked her shirt over her head. "Is there where I come to claim my present?"

Michael stifled a laugh as he moved to his side of the bed, throwing back the covers and slipping under the comforter. He shivered a little when the cold sheets touched his nearly naked body and he pulled the blanket up to his chin, peering at her over the top. “You’ll have to come in here to find it…” he said smoothly, lifting her side of the comforter and patting the mattress.

Sara smirked and crawled into the bed. She giggled as she scooted over towards Michael and placed a soft kiss to his neck. "Sure you're not too tired?"

Michael smirked and closed his eyes as she kissed him and letting his hands fall limp beside his head on his pillow. “Now that you mention it…” he whispered with a chuckle, feeling her slide onto his body. “…No…” he breathed, capturing her lips in a slow kiss and shifting his legs underneath her.

"Mmm, good. . ." Sara shifted on him, and pressed her knees into the side of his thighs as she kissed him. "I love you."

“I love you too, baby,” Michel smiled up at her, pulling her thighs up high so that she was straddling his waist but still laying on top of him. “Happy anniversary,” he whispered, gently brushing her hair from her neck and suckling on the soft skin there. He hummed contently, kissing up over her chin and around her lips to the other side of her neck, smoothing his hands down her ribcage and pushing on the waist band of her panties.

"Mmm. . ." Sara wiggled the rest of the way out of her panties and hooked her finger into the waistband of Michael's boxers. She found his mouth with hers again, sighing contentedly against his lips. "Six years. . ."

“I know…” Michael said with a smooth, velvety drone. “Six whole, wonderful…sexy…” he growled, kicking his boxer off from under her and out of the side of the duvet. He reached up behind her back and unsnapped her bra masterfully, pulling it free from her body and gasping like he always did at her beautifully rounded breasts. He smirked and held her close to him as he rolled them over and tangled them in the duvet. “Have I ever told you…how much I enjoy having children with you?” he rasped, letting his eyes roam down to her swollen breasts.

Sara smirked and wrapped her arm around his neck, drawing him down into another kiss. "Oh, baby. I think it's just the breasts you like." She giggled and wiggled under him. "Enjoy them while they last."

“So…no more?” Michael arched a brow at her. He didn’t really know if he wanted more children but he figured he most certainly would enjoy himself while Sara was as voluptuous as she was. “You know…” he whispered, letting his lips slide from her and start to kiss their way down her body. Sara tilted her head back into the pillows and arched into him. “…I love your body anyway,” he shrugged, trailing hot, wet kisses down between her bosom and lifting his hand to cup at the flesh before darting his tongue out over the hardened peak.

"Ohh, God. . ." Sara's eyes fluttered shut as he moved his mouth on her. She bit her lip and tried to stifle her moans. The last thing she wanted was Roman running in the room to see what was going on. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so turned on. "Oh, yeah, Michael. Enough foreplay. I want you."

“As flattered as I am…” Michael whispered in a husky voice, lapping at her pink nipples hungrily. “…I haven’t even begun,” he breathed, trailing his hand down her side, letting it slide around her torso, over the curve of her behind and back up the inside of her thigh.

"But. . . but --" Sara moaned, arching her hips up into him. She turned her head into the pillow and groaned. "Maybe we should have thought about how much we love sex before we had kids."

Michael laughed softly, stifling the sound against the underside of her swollen breast as he nuzzled the sensitive flesh there. His fingers danced around her hot core, teasing her with the prospect of entering a few times when he slicked his fingers over her sodden folds. “They do tend to…” Michael rasped but was cut off but the soft gurgling cry from the baby monitor beside them. They both stopped and turned their heads to look at the glowing green line of lights as Sophia cried weakly.

Sara giggled, then let out a soft groan when Sophia's whimper floated across the bedroom. "You were saying?" She tapped lightly on his back. "Come on, I'll go get her."

“No…no…” Michael whimpered pathetically, dipping his head back to her neck and nuzzling his nose behind her ear. “…She’ll stop…” Michael said slowly, listening to the tired cries over the monitor. He slid his hand up her arm and pinned her wrist to the bed gently, not letting her touch him. “…give her a second to settle…” he smirked against her ear, gently sucking on her delicate ear lobe.

"Michael. . ." Sara groaned, thrusting her hips up into his. "She's. . . she's crying. She needs us." She whimpered against his skin. "Do you love sex more than your daughter?"

Michael lifted his head to look into her eyes for a second and the crying diminished on the other end of the monitor. The little green LED’s faded away as Sophia fell back asleep and Michael smirked down at her. “See?” He whispered as if the baby could hear him along the way one device.

Sara rolled her eyes and leaned up, capturing his lips in another kiss. She sucked on his bottom lip gently. "Still horny?"

A long groan escaped Michael’s throat and his eyes fluttered closed. He ground his arousal into hers, coating his erection with some of her juices and fluttering his heated flesh across her clitoris. “What does that feel like?” he asked with slight frustration to his voice.

"God, Michael. . ." Sara groaned. She pressed her fingers into his back and thrust her hips up. "I want to feel you touching me. I want to feel you inside of me."

“What happened to enough foreplay?” he teased, hovering back over her aching nipples and breathing hard onto the flesh.

Sara wound her hand around his neck and drew his head down to her chest. "Never enough. Never, ever, ever."

Planting his hands firmly to either side of her torso, Michael impatiently sucked on Sara’s nipples, taking his time to tease both with his thumb, his mouth, and his cool breath. He tickled the back of his hands up her sides, pressing his body to hers for a second and feeling her hard nipples against his skin while he seized her lips for another kiss. Michael shifted his knees upwards, gently parting Sara’s thighs wider and one of his hands found her wet folds again and he began a quick, methodical rhythm in and out of her with two long fingers while he thrust his erection against her clitoris.

Sara writhed beneath him, her breath leaving her in slow pants. Sex with Michael only got better, and she hoped it would always stay that way. She pulled up her leg, wrapping it around his waist, allowing him to push his fingers into her deeper. "Right there. . ."

“I know…” Michael breathed with a wicked smile as he stroked against the sensitive ridge in her cervix. Michael felt her heel dig into the small of his back when he stroked just the right spot and he relished in watching her face as he worked her. Her mouth hung open just slightly and her eyes were pinched painfully closed as her moans left her lungs.

Sara bit her bottom lip, fluttering her eyes open as she neared her orgasm. "I'm going. . . you're going. . . do you want to make me come, Michael?"

Michael pulled his fingers from her abruptly and felt her relax under him with a fluttering groan of dissatisfaction. “Not yet…” he grinned devilishly, taking himself in his slicked hand and gently rubbing Sara’s lubricant over his member. Michael shuffled up onto his knees in front of her and flattened one hand over the back of her free thigh, pushing her leg up and guiding himself towards her excited core. He gulped hard, pushing into her slowly before he moved to hover over her again and sank his length into her, stilled and exhaled hard.

Sara groaned, pressing her head back into the pillow and whimpering his name. She wrapped her hand around his neck and pulled him down to her, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. "You feel so good."

Michael simply let out a groan against her skin and took her lips in his again for another feverish kiss. He gently trailed his tongue across her bottom lip, urging her to open it and let their tongues dance. When he slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting teeth and the faintest hint of tomato sauce from dinner, he began moving his hips, mimicking the caresses of his tongue.

Sara kissed him back slowly, savouring the feel of his mouth on hers and his body pressed against her. It was few and far between when they could take their time to really make love. She trailed her hands down his back, pressing her fingertips into him and urging his body to press even closer to hers.

A low grumble escaped Michael’s throat and he panted hard to the corner of her mouth. “Sara…” he moaned, pushing himself back up on locked arms and tilting his hips harshly as he thrust deeper into her. He pulled himself even closer to her, tucking his knees under her behind and lifting her higher against him so his pubic bone could stimulate her bundle of nerves. The muscles in his tattooed abdomen flexed uncontrollably with his erratic breathing and he felt a smooth sheen of sweat covering his back.

Sara groaned into his neck as he changed position, pulling her up. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and gasped. "Oh yeah, right. . right there. I'm going. . I'm going to --'

“Oh Sara…” Michel gasped weakly, feeling her muscles begin to tighten around him and tugging his erection deeper. “…I feel you, baby…” he whispered over her gasps, pressing his face against hers as he quickened his pace a little, reaching out towards his own orgasm. Michael felt the unmistakable pull of Sara’s muscles and pressed his lips to hers to muffle the sounds of her screams as she came.

Sara groaned into Michael's mouth, rocking her hips into his as she came. She pulled her face away from his, continuing to rock her hips against him. "What about you, baby?"

Michael laughed softly at her impatience and continued his slowed pushes into her spasming muscles, letting his member brush against her shuddering g-spot over and over, each time her muscles rippling around him and drawing his orgasm closer. “Don’t worry, baby...” he gasped out, holding his breath tightly as his shattering orgasm rippled through him and he let out a growl on his breath. Michael hummed, biting his bottom lip with a smirk as he continued to drive into her tenderly, releasing more of his manly seed each time. “…I just wanted to watch you first,” he smiled sweetly, lowering onto her for a long, languid kiss.

Sara smiled softly, brushing her finger down Michael's cheek. She grinned against his lips, giggling softly. "Do you know how much I love you?"

“Yes…” he smiled, kissing her again. “…And I’m hoping you’ll agree to marry me again?” He said sheepishly. “Properly this time. With Linc as my best man and Ro as a little page boy…” he swallowed nervously. “How about that, Sara?” he asked softly, brushing the back of his knuckles over her cheeks and cupping her cheek in his warm palm. “Will you marry me?”

Sara shifted under him, breaking into a wide smile. "Seriously? Roman would look so cute in a little tux! Can you imagine him?" She brushed her lips against his neck. "You don't think our wedding was. . . proper?"

“Oh no, I do,” Michael nodded quickly, shaking from his daydream of Roman in a little tux and Sara in a gorgeous dress. “I just don’t want you to never have a ‘proper’ wedding, you know? Isn’t it supposed to be every little girl’s dream to get married in a big dress to a devilishly handsome, tattooed man with eight toes?” he smirked, brushing her hair from her brow and kissing her forehead. “Again.”

"It would be pretty fun. . ." Sara nodded slowly, her smile growing wider. "And Sophia in a little baby dress! I don't want it to be too big or crazy though, okay?"

Michael shook his head. “It’s going to be your day. Whatever you want, I’ll get for you,” he smiled down at her lovingly. “If my baby wants it, I’ll make it happen,” Michael beamed proudly. “So, is that a yes?”

"Yeah. . ." Sara trailed off with a slight nod of her head. She smiled warmly at him. "It's a yes!"

Michael let out a relaxed breath with his smile and hugged her body to him ecstatically, making her giggle a little under his weight. “You won’t ever regret marrying me this time,” Michael said slyly, tapping to the scar on his head and taking her hand in his and pressing it to the scars on his torso. “It will be a fresh start. No more surgeries. Ever!” he exaggerated with a laugh.

Sara cupped his face in her hands and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "No surgeries for any of us." She sighed quietly, looking up at him. "You know I could never regret marrying you. Ever."

“I meant all the fighting…all the surgery…all the accidents at work that put me into surgery…” Michael chuckled. “That Michael Scofield is gone,” he said triumphantly, keeping his voice hushed so he wouldn’t wake either of his children. “But don’t worry. This one is just as good in bed,” he winked, pressing his smiled to her for another kiss.


	60. Chapter 60

Roman peeled his eyes open in the bright morning sunshine that dazzled his room. He rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes and pushed himself up in his bed. He looked around him dazed for a second, letting out a slight snuffle as he woke up. He looked out of his bedroom window at his toys in the yard. They were damp from the morning dew but he didn’t really understand what that meant. He laid down on his belly and slide out of his bed, scratching his black hair as he stretched up and opened the door to his bedroom. He walked along the hall, pushing open the bathroom quietly and using his steps to help him pee. Then he moved his steps to the sink, rinsed his hands like his mommy showed him and flushed the toilet. As he walked out into the silence of the rest of the house, he was intrigued by the snoring coming from his parents bedroom. Roman peeked around the door and saw his mom wrapped up in the blankets and his dad lying on his back, arm draped over the edge of the bed and his mouth open.

Sara stirred in bed, letting out a long yawn. She fluttered her eyes open and glanced towards the alarm clock before her eyes fell upon her son standing in the doorway. She sat up and held out her arms, "What are you doing up, baby?"

Roman broke out into a smile and ran around to Sara’s side of the bed, jumping against the side of the bed and letting her pull him up. “I woked up, mommy,” he whispered, looking down at Michael’s sleeping body with a frown. He leant closer to Sara. “Did you draw on Daddy?”

"No, silly," Sara wrapped her arms around him and kissed his head. "That's Daddy's tattoo. It's ink, it won't ever come off."

Roman rested his hands on his lap and then lifted his shirt to look at his belly. “Where is Roman’s?”

Sara laughed quietly and brushed her fingertips over her little boys exposed belly. "You don't have any, silly! Just Daddy."

Roman giggled a little and hunched his body over to stop Sara tickling him. “Was daddy born with ink in his skin?” Roman looked up at her again, his cheerfully awake voice still hushed to a whisper.

"Nope!" Sara shook her head, wrinkling her nose at him a little bit. "Daddy had someone draw it on him for him."

“But why?” Roman frowned, looking back to Michael.

Sara leaned closer to Roman. "He needed them to help Uncle Linc."

“Uncle Linc has inks on him too?” Roman asked confused. “Does mommy?”

"No, Uncle Linc doesn't. Mommy does, but not because she needed to help Uncle Linc." Sara sighed and pulled Roman closer to her. "See, Uncle Linc was being held in this. . . dungeon by some really mean people, and Daddy had to break in to help save him. His ink was so he'd know how to get out!"

Roman listened intently and moved closer to Michael’s sleeping form. “It’s a map?”

A smile broke out across Sara's face. "Exactly, baby! You're so smart."

Roman mirrored her smile and looked back to Michael’s body. He titled his head and pulled his eyebrows together with thought. Suddenly, Michael stirred and rolled over, making Roman jump back a bit. He studied his father’s back and then turned to his mother quickly after seeing the Devil sketched on his father’s back. “Were there monsters? Where Uncle Linc was…”

Sara brushed her hand through Roman's hair, lowering her voice. "Baby, there's no such thing as monsters. But there were some not nice people."

“The news man calls mean people monsters…” he objected with a pout. “Daddy says lying is wrong.”

Sara laughed quietly, leaning her head against her boy's. "Okay, there were monsters then. But some nice people too. Mommy was there."

Roman looked even more confused. “Did mommy go with daddy?” he pressed his hands to her cheeks and made her face scrunch up with a soft giggle. “Mommy funny!”

"Mommy was already there," Sara leaned forward and planted a kiss on Roman's nose. "It's how Mommy and Daddy met and fell in love!"

A smile played across Roman’s face. “Daddy says he fell in love with mommy because she is very pretty,” he said softly. “Daddy’s not pretty though.” He leaned forward again and poked at Michael’s tattoo, inspecting his fingers afterwards. “It’s not coming off. The pen doesn’t wash off?”

"Nope, baby, the tattoo won't ever come off," she kissed Roman's cheek. "It's there to stay. And Daddy's very handsome."

“But…” Roman pouted, looking back to her. “You said Roman was handsome.” He turned back to Michael and pressed his finger into tattoo again. Michael groaned in his sleep and stirred back onto his back, making Roman giggle.

Sara joined in Roman's giggling. "You are handsome, baby!" She leaned forward and kissed him. "You look just like Daddy!"

“Can I have pictures on me?” Roman asked, lying forward onto his belly and watching the stretching lines of Michael’s tattoo as he breathed in and out in his sleep. “Like daddy?”

"I don't think Daddy would like that very much," Sara told him softly, rubbing her hand through his hair. "Tattoos are for big boys."

“But I the big brother!” Roman objected, scrambling onto his hands and knees and diving onto Michael’s torso. Michael woke up suddenly, his abdomen tightening with Roman’s weight and he let out a groan. “Daddy!” Roman squealed, sitting cross legged on Michael’s chest and holding his face in his hands. “Are you awake?”

Michael pinched his eyes closed and few times, blinking and squinting against the daylight. He sniffed hard, stretching his arms over his head and looked towards Sara, giving her a good morning smile. “I am now,” he said slowly, his voice husky and gruff.

Sara smiled and leaned over, pressing a good morning kiss to his forehead. "Good morning, baby. Roman and I were just discussing your drawings."

“Drawings?” Michael grunted, looking between Roman and Sara with a puzzled look.

“Your ink!” Roman giggled, slapping his hands to Michael’s chest and tracing a few lines of his tattoo.

“My ink?” Michael quirked an eyebrow at Sara and a smirk played across his lips. “You mean daddy’s tattoo,” Michael corrected his son with a soft chuckle.

Sara smirked, moving closer to them. "Roman likes Daddy's tattoo, don't you, buddy? He wanted to know why you got them, and now he wants his own ink."

Roman nodded and Michael looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He rubbed a hand across his eyes and yawned. “Is that so?” Roman nodded again, bouncing on Michael’s chest. “I don’t think so,” Michael said with a smile, rolling over and watching the boy tumble from his chest into a heap next to him.

Roman giggled and sat back up tilting his head to the side. "I be like Daddy."

“Not until you have your own house, Ro,” Michael laughed, propping his head up on his elbow and looking up at Sara. “It’s early,” he noted with another yawn, collapsing back onto the pillows with a groan.

"Real early!" Sara agreed, laying back down on the bed. She pulled Roman to her. "Let's nap."

“But Roman just got up!” the boy giggling, wiggling from her grasp and pushing himself to his knees between them. He looked between Michael and Sara who were looking at each other lovingly across the pillows. Michael shuffled his face closer to hers and tucked his arm under his pillow.

“It’s very early, Roman,” Michael said softly but firmly. Roman just stared at him with a frown. Michael rolled his eyes and looked back at Sara with a smile. “But of course…he has no concept of time.”

Sara smirked and leaned in, kissing Michael quick and soft. She pulled Roman's wiggling body between them. "Come on , baby, cuddle with Mommy and Daddy."

Roman sighed and spread his arms wide, falling flat on his face and throw and arm over each parent. Michael let out a strangled gasp when Roman’s arm hit him in the neck, but he played on it dramatically and patted Roman’s arm lovingly. He let his eyes flutter closed, his sleep tried to take him quickly. Michael shuffled his body even closer to Sara’s, pinning Roman between them and he threw an arm over Sara’s waist, caging Roman in.

Roman giggled for a moment and wiggled between them. "Mommy and Daddy soooo silly!" He giggled again, pressing a kiss to both their cheeks.

"Love you, Ro," Sara murmured, her eyes fluttering shut. "Love you, Daddy."

Michael did not open his eyes but a smirk played across his lips. “Love you too, mommy,” he whispered, pressing his hand into her back and feeling the bare skin under her top with his fingertips. “Love you, Ro.”

"Love you, Daddy," Roman mumbled, his eyes falling shut. "Love you, Mommy. Love Sophia too."

At exactly the same time, Michael and Sara peeled their eyes open and smiled at each other, sighing happily and drifting back off to sleep. Some time passed before Roman was awake again and bouncing on the end of the bed, announcing to them that it was breakfast time. Michael groaned, frowned and pulled Sara’s closer to him. Roman had obviously moved a while ago because he had filled the void and was pressed to Sara. “He’s like a puppy,” Michel grumbled, not opening his eyes.

"At least we don't have to take him out to pee," Sara laughed and pressed a kiss into Michael's neck. "Think we can pawn them off on Linc tonight?" She sat up. "You want breakfast, baby?"

Michael groaned and rolled over onto his back, draping his arm across his face while Roman jumped up and down at his feet. He stumbled and landed on Michael’s legs with a puff of breath and panted hard as he scrambled up Michael’s legs. “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Wake up! Breakfast time!”

Michael couldn’t help but smile and laugh at his son’s antics and he shuffled his legs against the bed sheets that had been kicked off in the night. “What did you have in mind?” he asked Sara softly, finally opening his eyes and yawning at her.  

"You, me, a movie and...you know..." Sara smirked, biting her lip.

“Mmmm…” Michael hummed contently, lightly scratching his chest lazily. “I meant for breakfast, baby,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Oh. . ." Sara blushed and glanced down to the bed, placing a kiss on Roman's head. "Is that a no for tonight then? What do my boys want?"

“That’s a yes for tonight,” Michael muttered as he rolled over onto his stomach and hugged his pillow. “I’ll call Linc.” Roman bounced on the bed some more and jumped onto Michael’s back.

“Treasure map!” he announced to Sara, pointing to Michael’s tattoo. “We can find daddy’s treasure!”

Michael laughed low in his chest and rolled over, sitting up and letting roman sit on his lap. “Mommy’s already found daddy’s treasure,” he grinned at her and winked playfully. “Okay, I’m up,” he said to Roman louder. “What does Ro-man want for breakfast?”

“McDonald's!” Roman announced, clapping his hands extra hard. “There are toys with the happy meals!”

Michael laughed again and shook his head in disbelief. “You’d better ask mommy.”

Sara made a face and shook her head. "Sorry, baby, not healthy enough! And they don't give toys with breakfast! How does a bagel sound?" Before Roman could answer, Sophia's cry rang out down the hall and over the baby monitor. "Sounds like someone else is hungry."

“Okay, tell you what,” Michael said, clapping his hands together and looking at Roman. “Daddy will make Roman a bagel while mommy feeds Sophia, how’s that?” he tried to sound exciting.

Roman pouted his bottom lip out. "I want mommy-a make breakfast."

Michael sighed and hung his head. He was glad Sophia didn’t need breast milk anymore because it meant he could help with the feeding more often. “Okay, mommy will make Roman breakfast, and daddy will feed your sister.”

Roman crossed his arms. "I want Daddy to help too. And Baby Sophia!"

“You want a lot young man!” Michael told Roman with a forced smile. “Let me go get the baby, before she cries the house down,” Michael chuckled and slid from the bed, padding from the room and ignoring the burning in his full bladder as he passed the bathroom. He pushed open the nursery and Sophia’s quivering wails were even louder. “Hey…hey, hey…” he called softly as he made his way to the crib. “What’s all that noise, huh?” he soothed, picking her up from her sleeping position and holding her to his bare chest. “Is daddy’s girl hungry?”

Sara stood up and held out her arms to Roman. "Alright, big guy. How about you and me go get things started while the slow pokes stick around upstairs?"

Roman jumped into her arms and squealed excitedly. In the nursery, Michael had changed Sophia and was just about to head downstairs to heat her a bottle when he almost bumped into Sara and Roman walking down the hall. “Fancy seeing you guys here,” he smirked, turning Sophia to see her mother. “Look who it is!”

"Hey, baby!" Sara leaned in and planted a kiss to Sophia's baby cheek. She let out a couple of quiet pants and Sara smiled at Roman. "Can you tell Sophia good morning?"

Roman nodded and leaned forward, pressing a sloppy kiss to Sophia’s cheek. “Good morning sister Sophia,” he sang joyously, grinning between his parents.

Sara shared a sweet smile with Michael and pulled Roman back to her, heading back downstairs. She pressed a kiss to his head. "Oh, Roman, you're the best little boy. And such a good big brother!"

Michael followed Sara downstairs with Sophia squirming occasionally and whimpering for her food. He busied himself in the kitchen, boiling the kettle and placing a pan on the stove with a bottle in it ready for heating. “What did you want to do today?” he asked Sara casually.

"Whatever you want," Sara smiled sweetly at him. "We could take the kids to the park, especially if they're gonna be gone tonight."

“That’s what I was thinking,” Michael smiled, bouncing Sophia on his hip while he poured hot water into the pan to warm her milk. “It’s going to be a nice, warm day today, so we should.”

Sara took the bagels out of the fridge and leaned into Sophia. "And our baby girl has never been to the park! No, she hasn't!"

“Park!” Roman cheered, gripping the edge of the counter with his fingertips and pulling himself up each time he jumped. Michael smiled at his son and rolled his eyes.

“You better be good for uncle Linc later,” he scolded lightly, popping the lid off of Sophia’s bottle and testing it on his wrist. He gave it once final shake and rearranged the baby in his arms so she could lay flat and take her bottle. “You know,” Michael frowned, looking down at her as she gulped hungrily. “I’d say she’s bigger then Ro was at this age.”

"You think so?" Sara tilted her head to the side and took the cream cheese out and set it on the table. She looked to Roman. "Juice, baby?" She turned her attention back to Michael and Sophia. "She's gotten so big so quick."

Michael smiled down at Sophia. Her tiny hands were opening and closing as she drank her morning milk, her eyelids fluttering closed a few times while she gripped to Michael’s hand. “She likes her food,” Michael smiled, not looking up from her as she gulped audibly. “I’m really glad. It never gets easier though, knowing we nearly lost her,” he said with a slight sadness in his voice. “I’ll always treat her like glass.”

Sara poured the apple juice into a glass and handed it to Roman, kissing him on top of the head. "Here you go, big boy." She moved over to Michael and Sophia, brushing her lips across her baby's forehead. "She's okay now."

“I know,” Michael said warmly, shifting Sophia in his arms and laying her against his chest to burp her. He turned to look at Sara and smiled. “But she’ll always be my little miracle baby.”

Sara smiled and placed her hand over Michael's, leaning in and kissing him softly. "Our little miracle baby." She turned back to Roman, "Who wants to call Uncle Linc and ask to stay the night?!"

Roman’s eyes went wide and he finished off his juice, gripping the glass hard and jumping up and down on the spot. “Me! Me! Me!” he screamed, handing Sara his glasses and thundering off through the house, much to the amusement of Michael, to fetch the telephone.

“Ro and Sophia?” Michael arched his brow at Sara, grinning wickedly. “Do you have something planned other than this DVD and cuddling I should know about? Prepare for, maybe?”

Sara shrugged, leaning back in and kissing Sophia's cheek again. She moved her mouth to Michael's, kissing him softly. "Something you hope I have planned?"

Michael kissed her back slowly, testing her reaction to his tongue across her bottom lip. “So many things,” he growled with a smirk. Roman’s footsteps came thundering back through the house and he was clutching the cordless in both hands.

“Mommy, I want talk to Uncle Linc,” he said, standing at her feet, head tilted back and phone at arm’s reach as he pushed it up Sara’s body for her to dial. “Roman ask.”

Sara smirked down at her son. "You're a little excited, aren't you, baby? Mommy's starting to think you'd rather hang out with Uncle Linc than her and Daddy!" She punched Linc's number into the phone.

Michael leaned over towards Sara and almost pressed his lips to her ear after she handed Roman the phone. “I’m not complaining,” he growled, letting a hand slide down her back and over the curve of her behind.

“Uncle Linc!” Roman squealed and then burst into a fit of giggles at what Lincoln had said on the other end of the line. He crushed a fist to his face, hiding his smile behind his hand while he listened. “Mommy says I can spend the night.”

Sara smirked at Michael, leaning over and pressing her lips to his neck. She sucked gently at the skin. "It has been awhile since we've had a night alone."

Michael hummed in agreement and slipped past her to go get Sophia dressed. Roman was busy chatting to Linc, giggling intermittently and shaking his head as if his uncle could see. “I can bring…okay…okay…yeah, but…okay….” He rambled, concentrating on his uncle’s words. Roman looked up and smiled at his mother, offering her the phone. “Wants you.”

Sara kissed Roman's head as she took the phone and pointed for him to go sit down. She took out his bagel and spread the cream cheese on it. "Hey, Linc!" Setting the bagel in front of Roman, she picked up his glass, moving to refill it.

“I told you,” Lincoln smiled into the phone, shaking his head lightly. “Kids would hinder your sex life. Leave them with Mike and come over,” he teased with a laugh. “You stay the night.”

"We love our babies!" Sara set Roman's juice in front of him and leaned over, placing a few loud, sloppy kiss to his neck and smiling when he giggled. "And I'm sure you'd love that, Linc, but I already promised my husband tonight."

“Aww…” Lincoln pouted playfully, letting the phone leave his ear for a second while he pulled his shirt on over his head. “…Maybe another time,” he laughed. “What time do you want me to come get the guys?”

"Whatever you want to do," Sara told him. "We're going to take them out to the park later. Sophia's never been. You could come if you want?" She paused. "Are you sure you don't mind letting them come over?"

“Of course not!” Lincoln sang down the phone. “I love spending time with them, and I’m sure Roman misses Elmo,” Lincoln chuckled and imagined the cringe worthy face Sara was pulling. “I’d love to come to the park but I have things to do this afternoon. LJ wants me to help him with some college stuff. Moving dorms or something.” He shrugged and looked around for his keys.

"Alright then," Sara said, ruffling her fingers through Roman's hair as he ate. "Smaller bites, okay, baby? It's not going anywhere. We'll see you this evening then?"

“Sure, what time?” Lincoln asked with a frown when his keys were not where he expected them to be.

"How about five or six?" Sara suggested, smiling as Michael and Sophia came back into the room. "Look at you, little miss pretty and pink! Daddy actually did a good job today! I don't want to rush you, Linc."

“Okay, shall we say have them ready for six?” Lincoln asked, finally finding his keys and almost screaming his victory into the phone. “I’ll hide the pop,” he laughed again, and said goodbye, hanging up the phone and heading out the door.

“So?” Michael spun around Sophia who had begun squirming in his arms. For some reason, she always knew when they were going out and for a baby, Michael was amazed she found it the most enthralling thing ever.

Sara smiled and held her arms out, pulling her daughter to her for the first time that morning. She held her up and planted a kiss to her nose. "Does my baby want to stay with Uncle Linc tonight? Mommy will miss you! Yes, she will!"

“I’ll do the other one too,” Michael chuckled, lifting Roman from the couch with a giggle and tossing him over his shoulder. “Ro-man!” he cheered, spinning the boy around as he twirled towards the stairs and then began running up them with his son bouncing on his shoulder.

“Daaaaaaaaaaaddy!” Roman yelled with a squeak. He began to make plane noises and Michael shifted his position, holding him horizontal at his side and rushing down the hall into the bathroom.

“You clean your teeth,” Michael told him, kicking his steps towards the sink and handing him his toothbrush. “And wash,” he said firmly, running a little warm water and then leaving a face cloth in the clear liquid for Roman. He perched on the edge of the bath and watched him struggle with ringing out the cloth and sighed and rolled his eyes. “Come here, look. Like this,” he twisted the fabric between his hands and handed the damp, blue cloth to Roman. Roman pressed it to his face and then grinned at his father. “That’s not washing Ro,” Michael scolded, taking over and rubbing the boys face and neck.

"Daddy!" Roman squealed, trying to wiggle out of Michael's grasp. "I'm clean already! Wash your face!"

“Clean!” Michael shrieked playfully, holding the back of Roman’s head and washing the scream cheese from around his mouth. “You’re not clean, mister,” he smiled, finally washing the boys face. “I am. I washed already,” he nodded and pulled the plug out of the sink. “Teeth,” Michael said, squirting some paste onto Roman’s toothbrush. “Remember, don’t swallow.”

Roman rolled his eyes and took the toothbrush, sticking into his mouth. "Daddy, please. I'm not a baby, okay!"

Michael chuckled at Roman’s comment. Why did kids have to grow up so fast? Roman would be four in less than three months time, and it made Michael's heart swell with pride to know his son would start school soon. Roman was smart and he deserved to be praised for it by all his teacher, who would love his boyish grin and his sparkling blue eyes too. “Okay, Roman,” Michael smiled, and sat back against the bath watching, crossing his arms over his chest. Roman finished his teeth and then rinsed his mouth, wiping his face and then grinning at Michael. “Good boy. Now go pick some clothes.”

"Clothes clothes clothes!" Roman rushed into his room. "I want to wear shorts like Daddy!" He moved to his bed, jumping up and down. "Just like my favorite Daddy!"

“Well, then it’s a good job mommy buys matching outfits for us, isn’t it?” Michael whispered close to Roman’s face as he plucked a miniature version of his outfit from the drawers and moved over to Roman’s bed. Michael pulled the t-shirt he wore to bed over his head and then pushed him over and pulled his pyjama pants off his legs, making a whizzing sound as he did so. “Okay, Roman who is not a baby,” Michael said, standing back up and tossing him some clean underwear. “Put these on.”

"No no no no!" Roman giggled jumping down from the bed and out his bedroom door. "Roman naked! Naked Roman!"

“Mommy!” Michael called with a grin as he walked calmly after Roman. “Roman won’t put his underwear on!” he tattled down the stairs. “He can’t go to Uncle Linc’s now, right?” Michael kept his eye on Roman out of the corner of his eye who had paused and stared at him wide eyed with shock.

Roman closed his mouth and stomped over to Michael, grabbing his underwear and clothes off the bed. He walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. A few seconds later, he walked out, his t-shirt on inside out.

“Oh, Roman!” Michael burst out laughing, covering his mouth and shaking his head. He pulled his shirt over his head and then helped him put it back on the right way round. “At least you put your short on properly,” he said, slapping the back of Roman’s legs gently and pushing him towards the stairs. “Let’s go show mommy.”

"Mommy! Mommy!" Roman hopped down the stairs taking them two at a time. "Come on, Slow-Daddy! Me and Daddy are matching!"

“Yes,” Michael said with a grin as he got to the bottom of the stairs and emerged into Sara’s view. “we match.”

"Look at my boys!" Sara glanced up from where she was sitting on the floor, Sophia on her back on a blanket in front of her. "You're both so handsome!"

Michael shook his head slightly and rolled his eyes. “People will laugh at me you know,” he said, sitting next to her on the couch and looking down at Sophia. The baby looked at him and let out some long, excited puffs of air before breaking into a giggle and chewing on her hand. “Even my daughter is laughing at me,” he chuckled.

"Well, can you blame her?" Sara cooed in a baby voice, leaning over Sophia. She let out a squeal when her daughter grabbed her hair in her hands. "Do you love your daddy, baby girl?"

“Of course she does,” Michael pouted and cooed at Sophia as he leaned over her. The baby’s eyes shifted between her mother and her father and she kicked her lets and gargled something in an excited giggle. “See,” Michael grinned, turning to Sara and pressing his lips to hers.

"I love our babies!" Sara cooed, reaching over and pulling Roman in her lap. She placed a kiss to his cheek as he giggled. "My little mini-Michael!"

Michael shot her a glance and quirked his eyebrow. “Okay, that phrase never leaves this house,” he chuckled. He reached down and lifted Sophia into his arms, perching her on his knee and turning her to face Roman. The baby looked at her brother before reaching out and slapping his knee and then giggling afterwards, repeating the gesture again and again. Michael moved his legs further away from Roman and held Sophia back when she tried to do it again. “Oh I can’t wait until these two can fight for real,” Michael laughed sarcastically, shaking his head.

Roman leaned forward, taking Sophia's hand in his and kissing her fingers. "Be easy, see?" He rubbed her hand then kissed it again. "We love each other."

Sophia gargled again and grinned at Roman, watching him intently as he played with her fingers. “You know,” Michael said softly, watching them. “We have the best kids ever.”

"We do. . ." Sara agreed softly as she watched Roman talk to his little sister.

Roman leaned forward on his knees, pressing a soft kiss to Sophia's cheek. "I'm gonna teach you to talk. You can say RO-MAN. And then you can walk and we can play outside. I'm the cowboy, you can be the Indian princess."

“Baby, Sophia can’t talk yet,” Michael told Roma softly. “Or walk. But when she can, you can play all you like,” he smiled, ruffling his hair. Sophia made a whirring noise and slapped her hands to Michael’s tattooed forearm that was pinning her to his body. “I think somebody wants to go already,2 Michael observed with a smile, pressing his lips to the top of Sophia’s soft, rosy hair.

"Well, then let's go," Sara nodded. She pulled Roman up into a standing position. "You ready to go, big boy?"

“Yup!” he grinned up at her, hugging her legs. “Oh!” he exclaimed suddenly and bounded into the kitchen and came back with a bright blue soccer ball in his hands. “Okay, ready!”

 


	61. Chapter 61

The park was hot. More than hot, it was scorching. The sun was abnormally warm for September and Michael insisted Roman and Sophia wear enough sunscreen to shield an army from the rays. The girls sat talking to other mom’s and babies while the boys played a manly game of soccer, obviously Roman winning every game and Michael flailing on the field like a girl when he lost. Michael didn’t think he had seen Roman so into his sister as today either and he kept telling all the other kids on the playground about how he was the big brother and he was teaching Sophia to talk.

“We tired them out,” Michael observed his two sleeping kids in the review mirror of the truck, each tucked up in a child seat with their head lulled to the side. He gave Sara a smile and reached over the cab to take her hand in his.

Sara looked into the backseat and laughed quietly. "At least they'll behave for Lincoln that way!" She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. "Are you worn out, baby?"

Michael shook his head a little and shrugged. “Roman jumped on me a few times. I got a few knees in the groin…” he smirked at her playfully, tearing his eyes from the road for a second to flash her a smile. “…But it all still works.”

Sara smirked and tilted her head to the side, reaching over and squeezing his knee. "Well, we're just going to have to make sure."

Having spent more time out than they had intended, Lincoln was standing on the driveways against his car and tapped his wrist as the truck pulled up towards his car. “You’re late,” he scolded them both lightly as they stepped from the truck, closing the door softly so they wouldn’t wake either child.

“We are,” Michael nodded, brushing past him towards the house. “You can take the truck, seeing as how the kids are already asleep in it,” he tossed his keys at Lincoln who caught them in one hand and handed Sara the keys to his Mustang. Michael went inside and fetched some overnight things for Roman and Sophia and then gave them to Lincoln who hung the two heavy bags on his shoulders with a grunt.

"Thanks for watching them," Sara smiled softly at Lincoln, snaking her arm around his waist. "What time do you want us to get them in the morning?

Lincoln shrugged and hugged Sara tightly. “I’ll bring them back when I’m bored. I have Michael’s truck don’t forget,” he quirked and eyebrow and chuckled low in his throat, leaning in to whisper in Sara’s ear. “He’ll miss it before the kids.”

Sara laughed and shook her head just slightly. "Sadly, you are probably right." She rolled her eyes. "His first baby."

“A man’s pride a joy,” Lincoln called joyously as he walked towards the truck. “So take care of my baby,” he winked at her and pointed to his car parted on the driveway. Lincoln softly opened the truck with a dull click and shuffled in without waking either child. Sneaking around the sleeping youth was something he had got good at.

Michael folded his arms over his chest and stood next to Sara, watching Lincoln back down the driveway and wave them off once last time. “My truck is not my first baby,” Michael said defiantly, waving at Lincoln with a smile. When the truck was gone, he turned to her a smiled. “You are.”

"Oh, am I?" Sara smirked, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him softly. "Not your first wife?"

“Technically, because I never slept with her, we were never really ‘husband and wife’,” Michael grinned, smoothing his hands down her bare forearms and edging back towards the front door. “Us, on the other hand,” he smirked. “We are all about consummating our marriage,” he smiled, pulling her to him for another kiss.

Sara pressed herself into his body, brushing her lips against his lips. She lingered on his bottom lip, smiling up at him. "Tonight doesn't have to be about consummating."

“Which is why…” Michael said softly, tucking some hair from her brow behind her ear. “…I think we should take a bath, watch a movie with a big bowl of sugary popcorn and then relax in the silence of a child free house,” he sighed, loving the idea already.

Sara brought her hands to Michael's shoulder, massaging slow circles. "Mmm. . ." She leaned in, pressing her lips to his neck. "You know what I like."

Michael kissed her back, hugging her to his body as he walked them back further into the house and closed the door behind them. Michael sighed heavily, taking in the eerie buzz of silence that had enveloped their house. It had been six months until Michael let Sophia out of his sight and go to Lincoln’s and then another two months had passed since her first ‘sleepover’. They had made the most of stolen moments last thing at night or early in the morning but they had not just relaxed for so long. Now, as Sophia was a year old, they finally had time to themselves. “I’ll go run the bath,” Michel said sweetly, kissing her again and then walking up the stairs to their en suite bathroom where the bigger tub was.

Sara walked slowly to the kitchen, opening the door to the fridge. She stared in for a few moments before grabbing a glass of champagne. Moving over to the counter, she grabbed two flutes and headed upstairs. "Ready, baby?"

Michel swirled the water with one hand and looked up to see Sara walk into the bathroom. “Champagne?” he arched his brow at her. “Are you sure?” he sounded a little fretful but wore his smile. He stood, walked over to her, pulling his shirt off as he went, and then took the flutes from her hands. “Just one glass, okay?” he smiled, walking back over to the tub and setting the flutes down on the corner. He pulled the cord on his shorts and them pushed them to the floor, shedding his boxers too and beckoning Sara closer with a crooked finger.

Sara moved closer to Michael, still fully clothed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Mmm, I'm sure. I trust you won't let me get drunk and wild?" She dropped her mouth to his shoulder, darting out her tongue over blue lines. "I love you."

Michael hugged her too him, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her to his naked body. “I love you too, Sara. So much,” he smiled, pressing his lips to hers again when the hug ended. He kept his smile as he pulled her top over her head and then ducked his head to kiss the skin on her bare shoulders while he undid her bra. “When was the last time we did this?”

"Honestly? I don't even remember. . ." Sara let out a quiet groan as he slid her bra down her shoulders and dropped them to the floor. Slowly she reached between them and unbuttoned her pants, sliding them to the floor. "We can have a nice, slow evening."

Michael smoothed his hands over her stomach and around her back, down further and pushed them under the waistband of her panties. He pushed the garment to the floor to join the rest of their clothes and breathed a sigh of relief. He laughed quickly, taking her hand and helping her step into the bath. “I can’t help but think any second now Roman will call one of us to play cowboy,” he chuckled, stepping into the bath behind her and leaning against the white porcelain.

Sara pressed her back into his torso and fluttered her eyes shut, letting out a sigh of contentment. "Mmm, baby. Do you hear that?"

Michael wrapped his arms around her for a second, hugging her to him and pressing his cheek to hers while her face rested to his shoulder. “You mean the silence?”

Sara smirked, turning her head to meet his lips in a slow kiss. "Uh-huh." She kissed him once more. "That's exactly what I mean."

Michael just hummed his answer against her lips, smoothing his hand down her body and into the water where it rested on her hip. His other hand toyed with the Champagne cork, pulling it free and discarding it to the bathroom floor. Michael lifted his watery hand, holding the two flutes in between his fingers while he poured them a glass of cold champagne. He set the bottle back down on the floor beside the bath and offered Sara the glass. “Champagne, baby?”

"Thank you, baby," Sara took the flute from him and took a slow sip, sinking further down into the water and closer to Michael. "All these years and you're still the most romantic man I've ever met."

Michael lifted his glass to his lips and sipped at the sparkling, golden drink with a smile. He let the taste linger on his tongue for a second before her swallowed and then rested his flute to the edge of the bath. “To be fair, I haven’t given Linc much of a chance,” he smiled, sliding down further in the water so that it lapped at his chest.

Sara laughed quietly and slid her hands into the water, taking his hands in hers. "Oh, baby. It doesn't even matter how romantic any other man is. You're all I want or need.”

Michael curled his fingers around her hands, pressing his fingertips into her palm and locking his fingers with her. He lowered his head and let his eyes fall closed as he pressed soft kisses to her damp shoulder. The water was nice a hot and steam rose from the surface in lazy, cloudy swirls before disappearing into the bathroom. Michael laid his head back against the porcelain tub again and tangle his legs with Sara’s. “What movie did you have in mind?”

Sara sighed softly and shrugged a little. "Nothing violent? And nothing about dinosaurs or spacemen. What sounds good to you?"

Michael laughed a little. “I really, honestly don’t know,” he said softly, shifting their hands so that he was pressed his palm to Sara’s. “Let’s make it a nice, adult friendly movie, before our brains dribble out of our ear from too much kids TV.”

"Adult movies?" Sara opened her eyes and pretended to be shocked. "Like, a movie made for people our age? You mean they make those?!"

“Oh yeah,” Michael nodded with a frown. “They call it porn,” he giggled, hugging her closer to his body and letting his arm drape across her bare chest. When his laughed ended he pressed his lips to the side of her temple and let his lips linger on her skin. “I’m kidding. We’ll find something.”

Sara laughed quietly, bringing her hand out of the water and pressing her hand against his cheek. "Porn, huh? How long has it been since we've watched porn?"

Michael pinched his eyes closed and screwed his face up with thought. His mouth twisted sideways and he opened his eyes again and focused on the far wall of the dimly lit bathroom. “It must have been…” he pondered some more, lifting his hand and scratching the back of his neck. He puffed his cheeks and blew out a breath. “…I don’t know.”

Sara laughed louder and turned around in his arms, kneeling between his legs. She kissed his mouth, then his jaw, then his neck. "Mmm. Remember the days of just you and me?"

“I do,” Michael swallowed hard, tilting his head back further and allowing her to kiss his skin. “But I wouldn’t change what we have now. Not for anything.”

"Me either," Sara agreed, pressing her open mouth against his shoulder. "I love our babies more than anything in the whole world. I love our life."

Michael smiled and lifted his warmed hand out of the water to rest against her shoulder. “I love what you’re doing right now,” he whispered, sliding his hand up her neck to tilt her face to his and lean forward to kiss her hungrily.

Sara smiled against his mouth, trailing her fingertips against his stomach. "Kissing you?"

“Kissing me,” Michael confirmed on a whisper, pressing his lips to hers again, slightly askew and over her bottom lip. He parted his lips and reclaimed the lip with his, sucking on it slowly. “I love when you kiss me,” he breathed, smoothing her hair from her face and holding her face against his.

"Mmm. . ." Sara moaned against his mouth. She moved her hands back down into the water, pressing them to his thighs. "Are we going to get to the movie even?"

“Yes,” Michael said, closing his eyes and swallowing a nervous lump down his throat. “We need to watch some porn…I mean, a movie,” he smirked at her, trailing his hands down her arms and gripping to her wrists, stopping them from moving over his body anymore.

"You want to save the sex for later?" Sara whispered against his collarbone, darting her tongue out. "When we can lay in bed and take it nice and long and slow. . ."

Michael groaned in his throat and let his head fall back against the side of the tub. “Yes,” he answered on a choked voice. “I want that,” he added, much to the disgust of his body. He lifted his head again and smiled at her softly. “I like making long, slow love to you.”

"We'd better get out of this bath. . ." Sara pressed her mouth to his chest. She trailed her tongue back up to his neck. "Before we can't stop."

“We?” Michael arched his row at her as he pushed himself into a sit in the water. It rippled against the end of the bath and then lapped back up his body. “Before you can’t stop you mean,” he smirked, taking his champagne from the edge of the bath and taking another gulp to finish it off. He wiggled his eyebrows at her and reached an arm out of the bath to rest the flute on the floor.

Sara picked up her own flute and finished her mostly full glass, sitting it down next to Michael's. She smirked. "Oooh. Feeling frisky now."

“I don’t want sex in this bath,” Michel laughed, reaching over to grab a towel before standing up and wrapping it around his waist. He stepped out of the bath and fetched another; padding back towards the tub and holding it open for her. “You can have in there on your own if you’d like. I’d love to watch that porn movie,” Michael smirked.

Sara giggled and shook her head, stepping out of the tub. She leaned into the towel and wrapped her arms around his neck. "No porn tonight, babe."

Michael heaved a sigh and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing her body to his. “That’s a shame,” he mused, kissing her softly. “There just isn’t enough porn with you in it nowadays.”

Sara laughed quietly and shook her head. "You're something else, Scofield. You know that, right?" She gave him a sweet smile. "I want to wear your clothes."

“My clothes are your clothes,” Michael chimed, grabbing his dirty ones from the floor and tossing them into the laundry bin. “Yours on the other hand should stays yours,” he laughed, leaving the bathroom and making his way over to his drawers. He pulled open one draw and pulled our some black boxers and then pulled the next draw open and pulled out two old college t-shirts. He tossed the smaller one onto the bed. “You can wear that one, baby. It’s bound to smell like me. It’s about twenty years old,” he laughed.

"Mmm, that's how I like it. . ." Sara pulled it over her head, then moved to her drawer, taking out a pair of silky panties and pulling them on. She closed the distance between them. "I love how you smell."

Michael finished pulling the t-shirt over his head so he was dressed in just the grey marl material and is boxers. He stood up to greet her as she walked towards him and he fiddled with the damp ends of her hair. “Well aren’t you just the sexiest little stalker ever,” he cooed, running a single finger down her body over his shirt and snapping the elastic waist of the silky panties. “I like these,” he growled, feeling the material with his hand. “Very hot.”

Sara let out a groan into his neck, pressing her body into his. "Mmm. Seriously, Scofield. Trying to start something?"

“Seriously, not yet,” he whispered against her ear, running his tongue over the sensitive skin and hearing her moan. “I want to just relax with you first,” he said firmly, pressing his lips to her cheek, then the corner of her mouth. He paused with his lips hovering just above her and his eyes flicked between hers and her mouth. “So control yourself.”

"I can do that," Sara told him quietly, pulling away. She smiled and motioned to the bedroom door. "I think you promised me some popcorn."

Michael wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they walked from the bedroom down the stairs. He let her snuggle on the couch under a blanket while he moved to the kitchen and prepared the popcorn. “We only have sugared,” he called back through the house. “Pick a movie while I do this.”

Sara moved over to the TV, looking through all their cases. Instead of popping in a movie, she found something else. Setting up the DVD player, she moved back to the couch, pushing play. A home video of Michael recording her popped onto the screen.

Michael heard his voice from the kitchen and frowned as he poured the popcorn into a bowl. A smile spread across his lips and he walked back into the lounge with a laugh. “Where did you find that?”

A smile lit up Sara's face as she smiled up at him. She shrugged and took a handful of popcorn. "Bottom of the pile." Sara rolled her eyes as Michael trailed the camera down her body, and her voice screeched, "Stop lookin' at my ass!" from the TV.

Michael settled down next to her on the couch and rested the popcorn to his lap. He looked at her innocently and shrugged. “You have a nice ass,” he smirked. He looked back to the screen again. “Wow, this is so before the kids. Like, after Italy, right?”

"How could you tell it was before the kids?" Sara smirked over at him. "My hot body?"

“Your body is still hot,” he growled at her, nuzzling her neck and kissing her ear lobe. He shook his head and pointed to his reflection in the mirror. “I can see my muscles where my flab hasn’t caught hold yet,” he laughed. For some reason, Michael had his shirt off and his reflection was caught to the side of the shot when Sara moved in front of it. Suddenly, Michael burst out laughing. “I know where this movie ends,” he grinned and then frowned. “How did we leave it where Roman could find it?”

Sara smirked and tilted her head to the side, shaking her head. "Guess you might get porn after all, babe." She shifted on the couch. "I'll turn it off."

Michael’s hand darted out to stop her from getting up and he sat forward to place the popcorn on the table. “Leave it on…” he whispered as the video took them upstairs and into their bedroom. Sara was bouncing on the bed and Michael and the camera were stalking her like she was his prey. “…it can be background noise,” he whispered, leaning over her body and capturing her lips in his.

Sara kissed him for a moment, pressing her body into his. She sucked on his lower lip, pulling away just a bit. "Mmm, baby. I thought you wanted to wait?"

“Waited long enough,” Michael mumbled against her mouth, pressing into her even more and making her body mould into the couch cushions. He stretched his arm up hers and plucked the remote from her hand, tossing it blindly to the floor and then smoothing his fingertips over her bare thighs.

"You don't even want to. . ." Sara arched her back up into him, running her tongue over his bottom lip. "You don't want to go upstairs?"

“And miss the movie?” Michael whispered, slipping his lips from hers and trailing kissing down her neck softly and slowly. He smirked against her skin, hooking a finger into the waistband of her panties and pushing them down gently.

Sara sighed and tilted her head back against the cushions, allowing him better access to kiss her. Laughing quietly, she ran her fingers up and under his t-shirt, pulling it up his back. She lazily let her fingers dance over the lines of his tattoo she had long ago memorized.

Michael stopped kissing her for a second, sitting up between her legs and pulling his shirt over his head. He dropped it to the floor, leaning back over her with a smile as he recaptured her mouth with his in a long, hungry kiss. His tongue found hers and explored every ridge in her mouth while he flattened his hands to her skin and pushed them up under her t-shirt to fondle her naked breasts.

Sara smiled, bringing her hand up and letting it rest against his cheek as they kissed. She slowed the rhythm of their kissing down, smiling against his mouth as she heard herself giggle from the television. She brushed her fingers down his torso, tugging at the waistband of his boxers.

Sara’s voice echoed in his ear, calling his name and he stopped kissing her and looked at her with a pant. “Yes, baby?” he whispered before he turned his attention to the TV and noticed Sara wiggling on their bed, beckoning him with a crooked with and a wicked smile. “Oh, it was the other Sara Scofield,” he grinned, stroking her cheek before he kissed her again.

Sara laughed against his mouth, sitting up just slightly. She pushed him away, then yanked her t-shirt over her head before lying back down. "There we go."

“Nice and sweet and slow, right baby?” Michael whispered, hovering his mouth above her breasts, panting hard on the tightness of her pink, dusky nipple that begged for his mouth.

Sara groaned and lifted her chest, brushing her nipple across his mouth. "Just put your mouth on me, Michael."

Michael wasted no time closing his lips around her aching nipple and exciting the skin with his tongue. His other hand found her other breast and he softly traced his fingertips around the curve of it, barely touching her but setting her skin on fire. Michael shuffled closer to her body, shifting his knees under her behind and lifting it from the couch so that his growing arousal ground against her opening through his boxers with every movement he made.

"Mmm, Michael. . ." Sara let out a quiet groan, rubbing her hands over his head. She tilted her head to the side and smiled. "Maybe this is going to happen quicker than I planned."

“Planned?” Michael stopped, breathless and red faced. He looked up at her, resting his elbows on either side of her naked torso to the couch cushions. “You had a plan for tonight? Am I ruining it?” He asked apologetically.

"No, not a. . . a plan," Sara shook her head and leaned down, brushing her lips across his. "I just don't want you to fall asleep as soon as we have sex."

Michael frowned at her but a smile crept across his lips. “Would I?” he teased but was interrupted by Sara’s moaning from the television. The camera had been placed to the side of their bed and Michael was just entering her, capturing her moans with a kiss. Michael pointed to the screen with his thumb. “I might not be that Michael Scofield anymore, but I won’t fall asleep, I promise,” he smirked, kissing her again before her returned his attentions to her body.

Sara ran her hands over his back, smiling softly and fluttering her eyes shut. "That Michael Scofield? Hmm. I think I love this one even more."

“I love you too,” Michael whispered, tasting her skin with open-mouthed kisses all the way down her stomach and then over her hip and down her thigh. He pressed his hands to the inside of the limb, smoothing his thumb over the smooth skin and then kissed the area softly. “How many times…” he paused, kissing the inside of her other thigh. “…Does this Sara Scofield…” he kissed the other side again, slightly higher up. “…Want this Michael Scofield, to make her come…” he rasped, finally planting his lips on her clitoris. “If I remember rightly,” he added, pointing blindly to the screen while he flattened his tongue over her opening. “That Sara came twice.”

Sara bit her lip and sighed, unable to formulate words. She licked her lip and it dawned on her that she didn't have to be quiet for fear of disturbing or waking up the kids. Smiling, she let out another louder moan. "Michael. . ."

Michael gently pressed his hands to Sara’s thighs, spreading her legs open even more. He licked up her entrance with his hot, wet tongue and hummed contently, letting his eyes fall closed, as he tasted her. “You taste so good, baby.”

"Michael. . ." Sara whimpered, fluttering her eyes open so she could watch him. "I love your mouth. I love everything about you."

“Baby, I just love you so much,” Michael breathed, panting hot air onto her twitching core. He gripped at her hips and held her to his face while he drove his tongue into her and lapped at her juices.

"Oh," Sara let out a low moan with the word. "Oh, oh yeah. Michael. . ." she gasped and whimpered again. "You have no idea how good that feels."

Michael worked on her faster, gently splaying his hand out over her stomach and feeling the warmth in her skin through his fingertips. With his other hand he licked at two of his fingers, lubricating them before pushing them into her slowly. He sucked on her bundle of nerves, feeling her clench around his fingers. Michael closed his eyes, hearing Sara moan from the television and moan from underneath him while her curled his fingers.

"Mmm, Michael, you know what I like," Sara murmured, letting her eyes fall back shut again. She thrust her hips up just slightly, allowing him to touch her right where she wanted to be touched. "Just what. . . I like. . ."

“Sara, if anyone knows your body…” he smirked up at her, planting kisses to her nub between breaths. “…It’s me.” He pressed his fingers harder into the sides of scorching cervix and scraped his fingers along the ribbed flesh. “I want to feel you come, baby. Come for me.”

Sara let out a cry and pressed her fingertips into his shoulders, finally allowing herself to come long and fast. She whispered his name over and over, stilling under him as her orgasm washed over her in waves.

Michael smiled and pulled his fingers from her, replacing them with his mouth and tongue and letting her ride down her orgasm against the wiggling muscle. He loosened his grip on her hips, smoothing his hands up ad down her thighs while he drank her release with earnest. Finally, when Sara relaxed back into the couch, he lifted his head to look at her and crawled up over her body. “God, I missed the way you scream my name in an empty house.”

Sara smiled and laughed quietly, wrapping an arm around Michael's neck. She held his naked body down on top of hers and let out a content sigh. "Oh, Michael, how am I supposed to summon enough strength for sex after that?"

Michael smiled down at her sweetly and smoothed his hand across her slightly damp brow, down her face and gently rubbed his thumb over the corner of her smile. “We can finish this later, if you’re tired,” he whispered to her softly, closing the gap between them and kissing her softly. “I’m a gentleman. I can wait,” he smirked.

"You can wait?" Sara smirked, brushing her lips across his cheek and sucking on his neck. "Mmm, baby. I wouldn't dream of it."

Michael arched his brow and sat back up, bouncing on the couch cushions and finally resting in a sit in the middle seat. He looked over to her with a wicked grin and patted his bare legs with a twitch of his eyebrow. “If you insist,” he growled, taking himself in his hand and stroking his length slowly as Sara moved towards him.

Sara straddled him and leaned down, pressing her lips to his in a long, open-mouthed kiss. She trailed her lips down to his neck. "It has been too long since we've appropriately assaulted this couch."

“Too long,” Michael agreed with a weak nod. “I still don’t think furniture gets jealous, but I bet it wishes it was our bed,” he chuckled, a low rumble escaping his chest and her positioned himself at Sara’s already excitedly numb entrance and let his tip linger between her folds.

Sara sunk down on him and pressed her lips to his, letting out a low groan into his mouth. "Mmm, baby."

Michael gritted his teeth and watched her impale herself on his member slowly, relaxing inside of her for a second before leaning forward and wrapping his arms around her as he kissed her. His tongue melded with hers and he couldn’t stop his hips from jerking upwards into her when he couldn’t wait any longer. “You feel so good,” he breathed, resting his forehead to hers.

Sara kept her slow pace up, rolling her forehead against Michael's. "Oh, yeah?" She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him slowly. "Tell me how I feel."

Helpless to her movements, Michael gulped hard and sucked in a breath as she rode him slowly. “Oh…” he managed to gasped out quickly, his hands sliding down her body and resting on her thighs on either side of his body. “…God, Sara…” he moaned, slamming his head back into the couch cushions, unable to give her a coherent answer.

Sara took advantage of his current position, pressing kisses to his exposed neck. She moved her mouth down, darting across his collarbone as she sped up her moments for just a moment. After a second, she returned to her slow thrusts.

“Yeah…oh, Sara…Yeah,” Michael whispered, digging his fingernails into her skin and leaving tiny semi circular marks on her skin. “You know…You know I like that, baby,” he rasped huskily, rolling his head sideways and letting her assault his body with her blazing kisses.

Sara traced the lines of his tattoo with her tongue, flicking her tongue out across his nipple before leaning back up and crashing her mouth to his. She increased her pace and moaned against his mouth, "Oh, Michael. . ."

Michael gasped hard when she moved faster, the sudden change in pace and angle almost too much for him to control. “Baby…” he begged weakly, pinching his eyes closed and trying to fight off his orgasm. Michael snaked a hand between them and pressed his thumb to Sara’s clitoris, gently rubbing the sensitive bundle in time with her thrusts. Michael sat up, dipped his head and took her nipple in his mouth again, holding her body to him while he ravaged her breasts and arching her body backwards until her long, ruddy hair covered his bare legs.

"Michael, Michael, Michael. . ." Sara whimpered, the sudden change in position almost immediately sending her over the edge. "I'm going to. . . oh, God. . ."

“Come with me, Sara…” Michael hissed, feeling the pressure build up in his gut. “…I want to…I want to make you come so hard,” he growled, holding her face to his at he kissed her again. This kiss was more harsh, wanton and lips were left bruised as Michael came, their slippery sweat soaked bodies causing a heated friction between them.

Sara pressed her face into Michael's shoulder as she came, hard and loud. She let out tiny puffs of air onto his shoulder. "Michael. . . wow."

Michael fell backwards against the cushions, crushing her to his chest in a hug. He held her tightly, his limbs still shaky from his orgasm and he let his eyes fall closed. “Oh my God…” he panted, releasing his grip on her and shooting a glance at the snow on the TV screen. He let a chuckle escape his mouth and he looked up at her with a smirk. “At least we lasted longer than those two.”

Sara laughed quietly and met his lips in another slow kiss. "I can't believe I ever let you record me!"

“Well, I needed something on those long nights home alone when you still worked at the hospital,” he grinned wickedly. “You let me record you because you trust me.”

"Trust you enough to know you'll never show it to anyone," she smiled sweetly at him. "Just because you want me all to yourself."

“Well, there was this one time Linc and I…” he began, taking in the look of horror across Sara’s face before he burst out laughing. “…I’m just kidding, baby. I love that movie,” he winked, pulling her face down to his for a kiss.

"Well, it's a good thing we did it back then," she mumbled against his mouth. "Four years and two kids later, it's never happening again."

“Never say never, Sara,” Michael smiled at her.

Sara rolled her eyes and pulled away just slightly. "Never, Scofield."

Michael pursed his bottom lip out and then broke into a smile at her. He reached down over the edge of the sofa, pulling one of their discarded shirts from the floor and pulling it over Sara’s head while she still sat across his lap. “What did you need me to stay awake for again?” he teased, dangling her panties from his index finger with a quirked eyebrow.

"Because!" Sara wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing another long kiss to his mouth. "We are alone for the night, baby. And I intend on actually spending time with you."

Michael let out a sigh and pulled her closer to him, flicking the blanket out over them and falling back to lay on the couch with Sara sprawled out over his naked body under the blanket. He leant over, grabbing for the remote of the floor with a pained grunt, finally reaching the offending item and flicking the television over and shuffling back into position. “I can’t believe it’s so quiet here,” Michael mused again, folding one of his arms behind his head and resting against it.

"Mmhmm," Sara agreed quietly, running her fingers lazily over his chest. "What do you think the kids are up to?"

“I’d hope…” he started slowly, shooting a glance at their clock hanging over the fireplace. “…I’d hope Linc has them both to bed by now. It’s past seven,” he noted protectively. “Or I’ll kick his ass because Roman gets cranky when he hasn’t had enough sleep,” he coughed the last part of his words out, averting his gaze innocently. A miniature Michael Scofield he most definitely was.

"Oh, he does," Sara agreed, smirking and rolling her eyes just a little. "Does that mean we'd better get you to bed soon too?"

Michael looked away from her with a dramatic shake of his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he smiled, finally turning back to her and pressing his lips to her forehead. “Sara, guess what?”

Sara smiled and draped an arm around his waist, snuggling closer to his chest. "What, baby?"

“I love you,” Michael whispered softly, pushing his hand under the blanket to dance his fingertips over the small of her back.

Her grin grew wider and she ducked her head, cuddling to his chest. "Is that so? Hmm. I think maybe I love you too, Scofield."

Michael arched his brow and crooked his neck so he could look down at her. “You think?” he teased lightly, smoothing his hand over the skin of her behind under the blanket. He slipped his hand between her legs and traced circles over the inside of her thighs. He felt every hair on her body stand to attention and saw her cheeks blush. “How about now?” he whispered.

Sara groaned and placed a kiss on his chest. "Oh, yeah. I'm definitely sure I'm in love with you, Michael. Maybe even enough to marry you."

“Again?” Michael laughed. “Don’t you think three times would be too much?”

Sara pressed her lips softly against his. "Just kidding." She traced her thumb over his cheek, and looked at him seriously. "Michael, I don't know if I've ever said it but leaving that door open was the best decision I ever made."

Michael caught her as it left his face and he interlocked their fingers, inspecting their wedding bands as they bumped together. “And it was the worst,” he added solemnly. “Things could have gone so differently,” he said sadly, only imagining a world without Sara for a second. “I don’t know if I’ve ever said it but thank you.”

"You have," Sara said softly, kissing him again. "And nothing went differently. It all led us to right here, Michael. You've given me so much good."

Michael smiled down at her and rested their hands over to his chest, grinning at her boyishly. “And a vasectomy,” he added with a giggle. “Don’t forget the ultimate in man sacrifices,” he smirked, brushing his lips over her knuckles.

"But think of all the good, unworried sex we have!" Sara teased with a smirk. "You don't want more babies, do you?"

Michael shook his head confidently. “I can honestly say, two is enough for me,” he smiled proudly, looking to the photograph of Roman holding Sophia on their mantelpiece. “I am so proud of you,” he stroked her hair from her face and kissed the tip of her nose.

"Proud of me?" Sara arched her eyebrow. "All I did was give birth to them."

“Exactly!” Michael chuckled, hugging her to his body. “You think my contribution was harder?”

Sara threw back her head and laughed happily. "Well, baby, it was certainly hard at the time."

 


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here endeth the journey. I hope you guys enjoyed it! I MIGHT write an epilogue, but I am undecided :)

Michael parked the truck in the driveways and bounded up to the door. The kids were all fed, changed and shipped successfully off to uncle Linc’s for the night and Michael shred his coat as he closed the front door. “Sara!” he called, beginning to pull his shirt over his head. Sara had made reservations at their favourite restaurant for his birthday and he was running late to get changed thanks to his brother’s incessant talking and fun making of his age. Thirty-eight wasn’t that old, was it? “Sara!” Michael called again, climbing the stairs and pushing the door open to their bedroom and arching his brow confused. “You’re not changed yet?”

Sara smirked at him when he walked in the bedroom and she moved from where she was sitting on the bed, adjusting her silk robe. "No. . . actually. . ." She blushed a little. "We don't have reservations."

“We don’t?” Michael asked innocently, dropping his shirt to the chair next to him. His eyes roamed over her body, taking in her bare feet, the gently curve of her hips under the silk of her robe and the swell of her breasts. He titled his head and gave her a smirk. “We don’t,” he confirmed to himself with a slow nod. “Well now. Isn’t this scenario interesting.”

Sara smirked and shook her head, closing the gab between them. She pressed a hand to his bare chest, then kissed him. "I was thinking we could. . . stay here. Go sit on the bed."

Michael tried to follow her lips as she pulled them away from him but she was in control. “Okay…” he sang with a smile of anticipation. He walked to the edge of the bed and perched on the edge with a bounce, leaning back on his hands and eyeing her intrepidly. “What are you up to, Scofield?”

Sara smirked and moved over to their stereo, getting it ready, then pressing play. She tugged on the belt of her robe. "How do you feel about a little. . . show?"

Michael hissed with excitement and licked his lips. “I wouldn’t say no,” he whispered, his heart racing in his chest. He watched Sara closely as she peeled the robe open and the beat of the music echoed through his ears, matching the beat of his pulsating blood.

Sara moved her hips in time with the music, letting her robe fall to the floor. She glanced down at her own body, moving a little bit closer to him. She had chosen the sexiest outfit she could find and was now clad in barely there material.

Michael’s feet tapped on the floor and he kicked his sneakers off, pushing them aside with his feet. He looked her over with an arch of his brow. “Did I buy that?” He grinned playfully.

Sara giggled and leaned over, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Your credit card did." She moved back away from him, just out of reach and turned her back to him, shaking her ass before bending over, then standing back up.

Michael’s skin itched and he shifted on the bed, rearranging his altering groin with a gentle grab. “Ooo…” Michael smirked, tilting his head as she bent over in front of him, exposing more then just her gorgeously long legs. “…You can do that again.”

Sara turned around, placing her hands on either side of Michael and leaning over, smirking at him. "You like that? What else do you like?"

Michael grinned up at her and let one of his hands gentle thumb the inside of her wrist. That contact alone was enough to send blood pooling to his groin, hardening his already painfully erect member. “I love to way you whimper my name,” he whispered, resting his other hand to her cheek and holding her head to his face. “Especially while you touch yourself,” he rasped and felt the hair on the back of her neck under his fingertips prickle to life.

Sara drew in a breath and leaned in, brushing her mouth across his. She trailed her hand down her stomach. "Do you want me to touch myself?"

Michael watched her hand and gulped. “Do I get whatever I want because its my birthday?”

"You get. . ." Sara pressed her mouth against his again. "Anything you please."

Michael almost growled low in his throat, a rumbling sound vibrating from the cavern of his mouth when he opened it to tease his tongue across her bottom lip. Michael’s eyes moved to focus on her mouth and a tiny smirk played on his lips. “Anything?” he whispered again, opening his knees and grabbing her barely covered behind and pulling her closer to him. “Because you know how kinky I am.”

Sara laughed and wrapped her arms around her neck, giving him a look. "Anything within reason, Scofield."

“Finish the dance. Drive me wild,” he whispered huskily, letting his hands slide from her skin to rest back on the bed behind him.

Sara moved back away from him, moving her hips in time with the music. She turned around again, giving him another view of her backside and turned over her shoulder, smirking before she bent over.

Michael pouted out his lips and tilted his head sideways again. His tongue darted out to licks his lips and he bit down on his bottom lip, watching her slow, teasing dance that exposed everything. Michael could almost smell her arousal leaking from her body and making her lingerie wet between her thighs. He shifted again and his leg twitched as a growl echoed from his throat.

Sara turned back around to face him and smirked, reaching up to her small, lacy top. In a swift, fluid motion, she slid her fingers under the material and lifted it up over her head, letting it fall to the ground.

Michael almost choked on his tongue when Sara’s arms fell back down beside her body and her nipples jutted to attention in the coolness of the room. The ache in Michael’s erection was so painful he thought about ending her dance right there and then but he wanted more. He always wanted more. Sara just had the ability to take him to places he had never known, simply by looking at him. When she brushed her hands over her breasts, feigning shyness and turning so he could watch the curve of her spine as she moved, Michael felt the pre come soak the front of his boxers. “You’re so fucking sexy, babe.”

Sara turned back around, tugging at the corner of her small panties and pushing them down over one hip. She took in Michael's lust-filled appearance and smiled, slipping her hand down into her panties. "Michael. . ."

A throaty giggle escaped Michael’s mouth and his eyes were transfixed on her hand disappearing into the front of her panties that might as well have not been there. He squeezed his thighs together and tore his eyes back up to hers, awaiting her words with an eagerly wicked grin.

Sara fluttered her eyes and gave him her full attention, sliding her free hand up and over her breast. "Do you want me to touch myself. . . or do you want to touch me?"

The two questioned burned in Michael’s mind. Was the choice really that too much to comprehend? Yes. Touch or be touched. But Michael wanted both. He stared dumbly at her, watching her hand tease her nipples into rosy peaks and her hand slip over herself in her panties. “Um…” he stammered.

"Michael. . ." Sara murmured, moving closer to him and gently rubbing over the bulge in his pants. She let out a breathy laugh against his neck. "What do you want?"

Michael let his head fall back when she palpated his groin, and his hips bounced off the bed against her hand. His neck felt hot and clammy from her breath but he figured it could have been sweat too. He gently curled his fingers around her wrist and held her hand there while he let out a sigh and relaxed his head against hers. “You’re going to make me choose?” he whimpered into her ear.

"Oh, yeah, baby," Sara whispered, turning her head so she could press her open mouth to his. "Completely your choice."

Michael couldn’t help himself anymore and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her sweet, intoxicating flavour with a groan. “You,” he finally murmured, his voice dark and full of arousal. “Touch yourself.”

Sara smiled and leaned into him a little bit, pressing her face into his neck as she finally slipped a finger inside of herself. Her breath caught, "Mmm. . ."

Michael’s stomach felt like it was falling away from him and his skin tightened over his entire body. He let out a long, breathy sigh and his eyes fluttered closed as she began to pleasure herself, moaning softly into his ear. Hearing Sara was almost as sexy as watching her and he swallowed a burning lump down his throat painfully, turning his face into her neck and barking his orders. “Deeper. Push it in deeper.”

Sara did as he said, letting out another moan and placing a wet kiss against his neck. She curled her finger up, stroking herself. "Michael. . ."

“Harder,” Michael rasped gruffly, moving his hand to her wrist and pressing her hand into herself forcefully. He moved back, away from her face, letting his lips linger on hers one last time before he sat back and watched her finger herself with a dry mouthed gape. “Scream my name, baby.”

Sara slid another finger into herself and bit her bottom lip, letting out a quiet hum. "Mm, Michael, I'm going to. . . I need to . . . Michael. . ."

“No…” Michael whispered firmly, slowly her speed by gripping her wrist again and letting her calm herself with a soft whimper. He looked up at her, his own underwear soaked beyond comprehension and his ocean blue eyes turned almost black with burning lust. Sara looked at him confused for a second. “…You come when I tell you to,” he smirked evilly, pulling her fingers from her panties, lifting them to his lips without breaking eye contact and licking her juices from her fingers.

Sara smirked and moved up onto the bed, placing her knees on either side of his thighs. "And what does my Michael want now?"

Michael looked up at her and pressed his hands to her back, supporting her weight across his lap while she straddled him. “Does Sara remember that toy Michael bought her? The one she keeps for when he goes out of town?” He arched his brow and bit his bottom lip when she blushed a little. “Use that.”

Sara moved off the bed and into the closet, glancing back at Michael with a smile. "You know," she called reaching up onto the top shelf. "I'm the one getting all the pleasure." She moved back into the bedroom, holding the purple vibrator in her hand.

Licking his lips again, Michael looked between her and the vibrator with an expectant gaze on his face. He shifted his weight again, coughing lightly. “Not entirely true,” he smirked, looking down at his groin. “Watching you is as hot as it gets.”

"Oh, really?" Sara moved back onto the bed and ran a hand over his damp jeans. "Is that so?" She positioned herself in a laying position and turned the vibrator on to the speed she liked.

Michael began to unbutton his jeans and pushed them over his hips, kicking them off so he was just in his wet boxers and crawled up the bed until he was sitting back on his feet in between her legs. He wanted to see all of her. Every muscles contract, every shuddering moan caused when her thighs shook, everything. “Remember…” Michael teased, trailing his fingertips over the hot flesh of her inner thigh slowly. “…men can’t have multiple orgasms like women. Be gentle.”

Sara smiled at him and gave him a short wink before slowly sliding the vibrator into her. She bit her bottom lip and moaned, fluttering her eyes shut. "Mm. . ."

Michael’s breath left him and he panted hard. “Mmm…indeed,” he whispered, bending his body over and planting a kiss to the inside of her knee. His hand slid up her other leg, resting at the apex to her thigh where he gently parted her lubricated labia with his fingers. Another moan escaped his throat and his fingers dug into her flesh. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

Sara groaned and fluttered her eyes open so she could look up at Michael. "It feels good, baby, so good." She groaned again. "The only thing that feels better is when you're inside of me."

The soft hum of the vibrator was ignored because all Michael could focus on was it disappearing in and out of Sara slowly, the vibrations shaking her bones and her back arching into her own thrusts. “It looks so…fuck…” Michael dipped his head, resting his forehead to the mattress to try and compose himself but still hearing Sara’s moans was not helping. He lifted his head and stopped her hand. “I want the main present now,” he growled, shedding his boxers.

Sara let the vibrator fall to the side of the bed and took hold of his hand, pulling him to her. "Happy birthday, Michael."

Michael crawled up over her body, member in hand, stiff and painfully close to the edge. He shifted his knees further into the crook behind Sara’s and spread her legs wider, rubbing his blunt tip over her slick opening. He hissed, rolling his eyes closed briefly before he grabbed the vibrator and placed it back in her hand. “Still use this…” he gasped, entering her with ease because of her wet, hot core. “…Use it here,” Michael whispered, dragging it down her body until he rested it on her clitoris.

Sara took the vibrator from him and pressed it gently to her clit, motioning Michael closer. "Come on, baby."

Michael began to move quicker and he felt a stickiness begin to form on his inked skin between his shoulders blades. Sara was best birthday present he could ever ask for and Sara doing anything he wanted for his birthday was a dream come true. Michael pulled her to him harder, feeling the bump of the vibrator against the base of his shaft and groaned loudly. “Fuck…Sara…” he whimpered, letting go of her hips and leaning over her body, resting his hands to either side of her body and changing the roll of his hips after he has tossed the vibrator aside. “Oh…yeah…yeah…I’m so close.”

Sara wrapped her arms around Michael's neck, pulling his mouth flush against hers. She groaned into him and thrust her hips up. "I'm coming. . ."

“I feel you, baby…” Michael grunted, pounding into her recklessly. “I’m right there, Sara. You make me come so fucking hard,” he groaned, pinching his eyes closed and stilling his thrusts just for a second while he came with a hissing sigh.

Sara tried to control her breathing and tilted her head to the side, brushing her lips across his ear. "Oh, baby. Wow."

When Michael’s release began to fade away he relaxed down onto her body, complete exhausted from trying to hard to hold his orgasm in and then from the actual act. He kept his eyes closed, nuzzling his face into the side of Sara’s neck and inhaling the soft scent of her lavender shower gel that had been tainted with her womanly sweat. His hand found her hair, caressing the red locks with his fingertips while he pressed his palm to her cheek and panted in her ear. “Amazing. You’re so amazing. I love you.”

"Not as much as I love you, baby," Sara smiled, pressing a kiss to Michael's cheek. "Do you want one of your presents now?"

“I have actual presents?” Michael arched his brow, finally opening his eyes to look down at her. He ghosted a fingertip across her brow and tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’re too good to me,” he breathed with a smile, leaning down and pressing his lips to hers.

"It's your birthday, babe. You deserve it." Sara stood up and moved to the closet, taking out a heavy, large wrapped present. She threw her robe on and carried it over to the bed.

Michael leant over the edge of the bed and grabbed his jeans. His boxers were way to damp to even consider putting back on so he tugged on his jeans and left them open at his hips. Michael rested on his side, propped up by his elbow and gave her an excited grin as she approached. “What is it?”

Sara set it down next to him and smirked. "Open it and you'll see."

Michael pulled the delicate blue ribbon holding the box closed and it fell silently from the top of the box. He peeled back a layer of lighter blue paper and frowned when he was met with a plain white box. He recognised the style of box from somewhere but he couldn’t place it. Then he opened it and the two smiling faces of his children looked up at him from a professionally taken and framed photograph, and he remembered the photographs he and Sara had done just after they got married. He lifted the frame from the box and smiled at his little miniature mid giggle and clutching his ten months old baby sister, also grinning with a gap toothed smile, between his legs.

Sara smiled at Michael and relaxed down onto the bed. "Don't we have the cutest kids ever?"

“Sara, this is…” Michael shook his head, blinking in awe. People had children all the time and they maintained that they had the cutest kids of them all, but when you sat back and really looked at your kids, and you saw them every day, you grew accustomed to their novelty. Michael had never seen Roman looking so happy and he had never seen Sophia smiling so beautifully. He traced the outline of her face with his fingertip, feeling the pride swell in his chest. “…Thank you,” he breathed, leaning forward and wrapping his arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him for a kiss.

Sara kissed Michael back and then pulled away slowly. "You should have seen them, baby. They loved every second of it. They love attention."

“I bet!” Michael chuckled, hearing Roman’s laughter echoing in his ears and Sophia’s gargling baby talk. Michael stared at the picture some more, totally mesmerized by his two little angels and their cherub grins. “Are you sure you don’t want anymore?” he teased, looking back up at her with a wry smile. “I’m kidding,” he grinned, looking back into the box and seeing a smaller framed photograph of Sara. He set the kids aside, picked up the other one and his breath left him. “Sara, you look…” he gulped, at a loss for words at her soft smiling photograph. “…Baby, you’re stunning.”

Sara rolled her eyes and shifted back on the bed, smirking up at him. "Yeah, well. It was either that or a naked one."

Michael’s eyes flashed with jealously until he realised she was joking and he relaxed again. “There was no naked photo shoot, right?” he asked her seriously, needing to settle his mind and know no other man had seen her naked. “I’m going to get both of these made smaller and put them in my wallet,” he beamed, looking between the photographs. “These are really great, Sara. Thanks again,” he pulled her face to his again and kissed her slowly.

"I'm glad you like them," Sara told him softly, brushing her thumb over his cheek. "Trust me, baby, you’re the only man allowed to see me naked."

Michael rested the photographs back into the box and slid it sideways. He rolled over onto his stomach and crawled army style up the bed towards her, propping his head up on his elbows and giving her a boyish smile. “Does Michael get a cake?”

"There's a cake in the fridge," Sara nodded and smiled over at him. "Roman helped me make it though, I think he was hoping you'd wait until tomorrow to eat it."

“Than daddy will wait,” he nodded with a faked grumble. He laid down on his front again and rested his head to the softness of Sara’s robe, staring idly at the blinking second timer on their alarm clock. “Wow. Thirty-eight,” he whispered to himself. “If someone had told me ten years ago that I’d have everything I have now, everything I ever wanted, I would have laughed at them.”

Sara rubbed her hand over his head and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Do you really, Michael? Have everything you ever wanted?"

Michael rolled his head sideways, looking up at her from his upside down position and offering her a soft smile. “And then some.”

Sara planted a quick kiss to his lips and smiled at him, nodding slowly. "Me too, baby."

Michael was quiet for a long while, rolling his head back and rubbing the side of his face against the soft material of her robe and clutching to her leg. He was deep in thought. “Sara?” Michael murmured softly.

Sara brushed her lips across the top of his head. She had thought he'd fallen asleep. "Yes, Michael?"

Michael stroked his thumb over her leg, watching his actions closely. “Do you ever wonder what our lives would be like if you had never come with Lincoln the day I got released?”

Sara was quiet for a moment, thinking it over. "Yeah, baby. . . I've thought about it." She sighed. "I considered not coming."

Michael rolled over onto his back, letting a hand rest to his chest while he tucked the other under her legs behind his head. “And? What do you think we’d be doing now?” he asked softly, staring up at the ceiling. “Why did you come? After I told you not to, I figured you’d never want to see me again.”

"I think that, no matter what, Michael, you and I would have found our way back to each other. . ." She let out another sigh. "I came because I was so in love with you I couldn't see straight. I came because I needed to know if you really wanted me gone from your life."

Michael looked over at her with a reassuring smile. “You know I’d never want that, Sara.”

"But you did want it, Michael. . ." Sara sighed and shook her head. "All those months I didn't see you. . ."

“What?” Michael whispered, rearranging himself so he was sitting up opposite her. He laid a hand to her leg and waiting until she looked at him again. “Tell me.”

"It's nothing. . ." Sara whispered, shaking her head. "Just feeling like you don't want me was . . . the worst thing ever, Michael."

Michael averted his gaze again and swallowed slowly. “Sara I hated being away from you, but I didn’t want you to see me in that place. It wasn’t Fox River and you weren’t my doctor,” he said definitely shaking his head. He heaved a sigh and covered his face with his hands for a second. “Not seeing you everyday was a mental torture. Like no other. But I thought, if not seeing you…” he paused. “I thought wrong anyway.”

Sara sighed and shook her head just slightly, staring up at the ceiling. "What do you think would have happened if I hadn't showed up that day?"

Michael felt a small rumble in his chest and he laughed. “I would have hunted you down when I realised how empty my life was without you.”

"Would you have?" Sara murmured, shifting under him. "Maybe you would have been able to move on, baby."

“Maybe,” Michael shrugged. “But I would have felt dead inside for the rest of my life.” He recaptured her hazel orbs and smiled softly, scooting forward on the comforter and cupping her face in his hand. He pressed his lips to hers so softly they almost didn’t touch but their bodies still tingled. “You were always the one, Sara. You always will be.”

Sara smiled. "I never would have fallen in love again, Michael." She shook her head slowly. "Never."

Michael smirked again and opened his mouth to suck on her bottom lips softly. “You ever think, with everything we’ve faced in life, someone, somewhere never wanted us to work?” he chuckled. “And how much we kicked their ass with ‘I told you so’?”

"Us? Not work?" Sara murmured against his mouth. "Michael, you're the only thing in my life that's ever worked."

“Ditto,” he whispered, smoothing his thumb over her cheeks as they both smiled. “Now,” Michael said, shifting to lie on his front beside her. “How about a full body massage by the talented Mrs. Scofield to finish up my perfect birthday?” he smirked, burying his face unto her arms that he crossed over under his head.

"Mmm, would my Mr. Scofield like that?" Sara laughed, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his back. "I suppose we can arrange that."

“Oh he’d like it very much,” he sighed excitedly. “You’re very good,” he mumbled, wiggling a little on the bed and relaxing into the softness of the comforter. “And I hope you know it.”

Sara straddled his back and pressed her hands into his shoulder blades. "Good at this? Or good at other things?"

Michael groaned softly and let his eyes fall closed. “You’re good at everything, baby.”

Sara pressed her hands lower, leaning over and kissing his neck. "I love you."

The hair on Michael’s arms, neck and body prickled to life, peaking out from his skin when Sara kissed him. Another groan left his mouth on a breathy whisper. “I love you too, Sara. Thank you so much for tonight. I really, really can’t wait for next year,” he smirked.

"You know, we don't need a birthday to behave this way," Sara teased quietly. "I'll dance for my baby any time he wants."

“Mmm…” Michael mumbled, feeling his body grow heavy under her rhythmic rubbing. He was sure there was something else he wanted to say but his mind began to clear and he felt like a rock, trapped between being awake and being asleep.

Sara pressed her hands into his waist and grinned, pressing a kiss to his ear. "My sleepy baby."

“Mmm Hmm…” Michael echoed his mumble with another, letting out a long sleep induced sigh.

"Then let's go to bed," Sara whispered, kissing him again. "I love you."

Michael inhaled hard, rolling over under her and grabbing her when she toppled from his body. He didn’t care he was still in his jeans and he didn’t open his eyes as he shuffled closer to her, wrapping an arm around her body. “Love you,” he whispered, a tiny tug on his lips curving it into a small smile.

Sara smiled, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth and letting her eyes flutter shut. "Happy birthday."

  
Michael peeled his eyes open, alerted by the silence in his house. Sara was next to him, shifting around in the bed into a more comfortable position, rolling her body to face away from him. The movement had woke him somewhat, and Michael swatted her on the behind playfully. His hands roamed over the fabric of her shirt and he grabbed her hips, pulling her harshly against his body with a growl. “You’re so naughty,” Michael breathed against the curve of her ear. “I love it.”

Sara groaned and turned her face to meet his lips in a slow kiss, shaking her head. "Not again, baby. I'm too worn out. My body isn't used to this anymore."

“Sara, Sara, Sara…” Michael shook his head and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, rolling his eyes playfully. “Always about the sex,” he looked away with a twitch of a smile on his lips. “In case you hadn’t noticed, baby, I’m nearly forty.”

"That old?" Sara arched an eyebrow, rolling her eyes slightly. She rolled over to face him and pressed her palm over his heart. "It's not just about the sex, Michael. It's about you being the best friend I've ever had."

“Sara, if it was just about the sex, we wouldn’t have lasted this long,” he smiled sweetly at her, tucking a strand of her dark ruby hair behind her ear and caressing her cheek. “The sex is great, it always had been, but we have something else not a lot of other people get. We have friendship and understanding and I love you more than words can say,” he paused, his lips twitching into a soft smile. “Always, Forever, Sara Scofield.”

Sara smiled sweetly at him, leaning in and brushing the tip of her nose across his. "Love you more."


End file.
